


Grey as the morning waters

by msarahv



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Bottom Dean, Depression, Gunshot Wounds, Happy Ending, Hiding, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Sad Castiel, Sad Dean, Top Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-02-18 13:15:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 30,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2349695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msarahv/pseuds/msarahv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is wounded. Both physically and morally, as his brother Sam was killed before his eyes. The brothers made a living hunting Art pieces for rich collectors, but now Dean is the hunted. He has to hide with a reclusive man named Castiel who has a troubled past and gorgeous blue eyes. Will he make it alive and overcome his guilt of surviving Sam?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unexpected allies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [1984winstonandjulia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/1984winstonandjulia/gifts).



Dean walked to the backdoor of the warehouse, silent as ever, but with bright alertness.

He loved that part of his work. The adrenaline was running high, all of his senses were at their most shrewd and his brother was waiting a few feet away, ready to pounce if the thief tried to run.

His eyes met one of Sam's (he should really get a haircut, the guy looked like Bobby's old English sheepdog, half-blinded by his bangs and large as a small house) in the semi-darkness and he saw the small nod. It was all he needed before working the door open.

  
  
It was difficult to walk. The place was cramped and the only light came from one of the corners. A shadow was obscuring it. Dean smiled. This job was one of the easiest... Well it had taken some time to find any lead and once again they had to ask for the police help, using the totally-fake-but-totally-convincing FBI's badge that was tucked away in his pocket. It was astounding how just wearing a good-looking suit helped with the charade. They had gotten a lead, then a name, Ruby, and after a harsh look-around, they were ready to take action.

  
  
The gun he pressed against her neck was a very real one, not FBI issued but terribly effective and discreet. Ruby tried to shake him away and they struggled for a while until Sam came to his rescue. Dean was panting, angry but amazed too, to meet a woman that strong. He was about to make a comment about that when he saw Sam's eyes open up wide:  
  
“Kristy?”

  
  
The good part was that “Ruby/Kristy” stopped fidgeting, staring back at Sam with the same shocked eyes. The bad part was that Dean had no idea whatsoever who that girl was and that was weird. Had she met Sam in college? It was about the only time the brothers had been apart.  
  
He smirked :

"Not that I want to interrupt your class reunions, guys, but we have a painting to find, remember Sam?”  
  
Ruby turned to him, frowning but Dean barely paid attention.  
  
Sam's neck was reddening and he was looking very embarrassed:  
  
“It's not... We didn't...” Sam was full blushing now.  
  
Dean barked “You didn't what? Who's this girl Sammy? And why do you look like you're about to pee on the carpet?”  
  
His brother's expression thankfully turned to one of his usual bitch face. Dean felt more in his element but then he heard a laugh:  
  
“Oh, come on, Sam... You didn't tell your old brother here what happened? Too ashamed for that?”  
  
Thankfully for him, Dean was cautious and didn't let Ruby take advantage of his confusion to flee. In fact, he crushed her hands as tight as he could, feeling an undefined anger build in his chest:  
  
“Sam, come on, what's going on?”  
  
Finally he got an answer and he didn't like it:  
  
“Remember the Vermeer case...?”

  
  
Oh God, yes, Dean remembered. They had found where the painting was, like the awesome private detectives they were (in the art scene they were even referred as “hunters” who always got their prey... or masterpiece, rather) and Bam! Everything had gone to shit as someone else had stolen the painting before they got to it.  
  
Sammy was still talking, all guilty-looking and annoyed, while Ruby smirked:  
  
“I might have told Kristy about it...”  
  
“You told an art thief about a stolen painting?”  
  
“No, I told a waitress...”  
  
“Of course, you fucking spend your time in bars blabbering about our cases! Like I'd believe that!”  
  
Sammy looked down and mumbled defensively:  
  
“Not at the bar, no... In her bed...”  
  
Ruby was gloating now:  
  
“Best sale I ever made. I went on a grand vacation after that. Plus it was a nice lay, which is always a fine bonus.”  
  
She said the last with a poorly disguised wink in Sam’s direction. Dean saw the wink and didn't know which one he wanted to hit more at that moment.

He took a deep steadying breath and managed to utter a professional:  
  
“We're not here to discuss the past. Crowley is getting impatient, let's hurry.”

 

  
It was as if someone had ripped away the woman's smile. Her pupils were blown and her breathing fast:  
  
“Crowley? What about him?”  
  
Sam replied coldly:  
  
“I don't know, Ruby... Maybe the fact that you stole from him? He's mighty pissed and is paying us good money. You'd better hand it now.”  
  
“Hand what?”  
  
“Don't play dumb, sweetie” Dean growled, feeling in charge of the situation once again “You know what we're talking about. Where is it?”  
  
If the witnesses and the lead hadn't been so damning, Dean would have hesitated. The girl had to be a consummate liar in addition to her seducing venom, but she sounded sincere as she cried to his brother:  
  
“I didn't take anything from Crowley, I'm not crazy! The guy's a creep... I heard he tortured a thief that was trying to rob his mansion.”  
  
Nevertheless, Dean and Sam looked for the painting. Hard. It wasn't anywhere and Ruby wouldn't tell who she had sold it to. So Dean decided to act on her fear to get her to confess:  
  
“Let's take her to Crowley. That way he'll know we found her and there's a good chance she'll talk.”  
  
Sam wasn't convinced:  
  
“I don't know Dean... What if she's really innocent?”  
  
It was Dean's turn to give him a bitch face and he was sure he had managed a nice one:  
  
“Yeah, right, defend your girlfriend, Sam.”  
  
  
  
They yelled at each other all through the drive to Crowley's place, sending the usual insults, but this time there was no playfulness behind them. Dean felt fucking betrayed. Sam was intelligent and tough and for him to fall into that kind of trap... He even thought about threatening to talk to Jess about it (He didn't say it aloud. There were lines you didn't cross. Sam hadn't cheated on his girlfriend, it had taken place years before they met.) just as they parked next to the pretentious gate.  
  
The room they were in offered a striking contrast with Ruby's hiding place. Even the walls were covered with luxurious drapes and they were art pieces everywhere you looked. It made Dean want to walk away fast. Too ostentatious, too tacky. It seemed Crowley was using his wealth as a way to gain power and intimidate his visitors (Maybe because he wasn't impressive himself. Dean felt better in his presence because the man was smaller than him so he didn't feel as dwarfed by his own little brother). There was a pair of velvet curtains that Dean could have used to cover a king size bed and he would still have plenty left.  
  
Crowley looked like a cat with cream all over his ugly mug. He was eyeing Ruby with his tongue licking his lips and Dean took a step back, taking the art thief with him. He didn't play that kind of game. Their team was clean even though they worked a little outside the law.

There were two goons next to the man, like demon watchdogs, not moving a muscle and yet terribly threatening but Dean just focused on his client, explaining they hadn't found anything:  
  
“You need us to find out who bought it? It's gonna cost you extra, Crowley.”  
  
The tycoon shook his head slowly:  
  
“Must be out of the country now. You guys aren't as good as I've been told, it seems. Took you too long. But I'm a man of my word so I'll write you a check.”  
  
“Right and we take her away too.”  
  
Crowley shot his hands in the air:  
  
“Sure! A nice pair of legs, hey Dean? I'll leave her into your capable hands.”

  
  
The wink that followed made Dean feel dirty, even though the idea of sleeping with one of his brother's ex hook-ups had never entered his mind.  
  
Crowley came and handed the check to Sammy who looked thoughtful, turning the paper over and over. He spoke in a low voice that made Dean shiver  
  
“I don't get it. You sounded enraged and horrified that your painting had been stolen and now, just like that, you're over it.”  
  
He stole a glance at Ruby, then added:  
  
“Unless the insurance money is more interesting... Did it really get stolen? Maybe it's still in the house somewhere...”  
  
Dean acted fast, all on instinct. He released his grip on Ruby, letting her go, then ducked behind a curtain. He just had the time to see Sam being shot in the chest. The “No” he let out brought the attention of Crowley's men. Next there was a white flash.  
  
  
  
He didn't remember what happened after that, just that he found himself outside, limping and sobbing hard. “Sammy...” His brother hated that nickname but now Dean wished he could hear his brother bitch about it. He could still see the blood when he closed his eyes. Sam had fallen down in silence.  
  
He had no idea where Ruby was, nor where he was parked but he kept on walking until a hand fell on his shoulder:  
  
“Are you okay?”  
  
Dean collapsed.  
  
“I'm Agent Henriksen. Did you get shot?”  
  
He groaned. Just his luck, a real federal agent. He nodded as he pondered whether to identify as just Dean Winchester or as agent Anderson. But the man kept talking:  
  
“I heard about you and your partner looking at an art theft. I was curious why it was a federal business so I came to help.”  
  
But Dean didn't want to lie. If they were found out in fraud, they risked... he risked (oh fuck, it hurt to think about Sammy again...) too much. So he let the truth come out of his mouth, in small broken bursts, not caring much about the shock on the agent's face. He needed him to go investigate, arrest Crowley, or at least chase him. For Sammy. For revenge.  
  
  
  
But it never happened. A phone rang and suddenly Dean was doomed. Crowley was calling for help. He had almost been murdered by two brothers, the Winchesters, who didn't hesitate to pass as FBI agents to get close to him. He had narrowly escaped, thanks to his brave body guards.

Agent Henriksen looked torn. Dean felt like Ruby, desperately needing to be trusted and yet with his actions speaking against him. He felt weak too, ready to black out any minute. He sent a desperate look that he hoped would convey his innocence.  
  
The other man acted fast. He grabbed Dean and led him away from the car lights. Once in the dark, he whispered:  
  
“I don't like impersonators, but I hate men like Crowley. I had him under the radar for a while, I even thought you guys were secretly working on exposing him. But right now, you're a fugitive and it's his word against yours. You need medical help.”  
  
Dean ground his teeth. He couldn't feel his left leg anymore but he didn't think he was fatally wounded. Not like Sam... Dean felt a powerful rage run through him, urging him to hop back in the mansion and look for Sammy.  
  
He focused, whispering:  
  
“I'll manage. My brother was shot too, you've got to find his... his body, before they get rid of it.” He had just said “it” about his little brother... “I just need a safe place, please.”  
  
Henriksen sighed:  
  
“I can't put you under FBI protection. Let me think for a second...”  
  
Dean let him think. He was discreetly tossed in a car trunk. That's when he lost consciousness.

  
  
He had a fever now but he was pretty sure the posters with dogs and cats skeleton were real as was the man wearing a white blouse poking at his leg. He had a cloth in his mouth and recognized the situation. A rudimentary medical procedure. The guy must be a vet.

He was good though and soon Dean felt slightly better. He dozed off till he was delivered like a beaten parcel to another guy. Dean could swear he could hear the sound of running waters. In his drug-induced state he vaguely heard:  
  
“Thanks Castiel, be prudent.”  
  
Those were the last words he heard before he slept for a very long time. He slept on and on. It was way better than waking up and facing the god-awful truth: he didn't have a brother anymore.


	2. Two strangers

Dean finally woke up because of the smell. If there was a fire, he'd better look for Sammy and run. Where was he already...? He remembered a cluttered place, inside a warehouse that housed a few washing machines parts. In the back, they had found the real business where the art thief...  
  
The smell was getting stronger. He didn't have time. Dean forced his eyes open and flailed his arms around. There was more wood on the wall than he remembered, and much more sunlight too. How long had he been out? His finger found a muscled arm and he clung to it:  
  
“Come on Sam, we've gotta run, can't you smell the smoke?”  
  
The arm was uncooperative and fought back:  
  
“Stop it!”  
  
It wasn't Sammy's voice, but it was definitely male, deeply so, so not Ruby's either, and certainly not Crowley's... Dean stopped and sat down.

He had been lying on a small brown couch. In front of him was the source of the smoke smell : a mess of black stovepipes running to the ceiling, all coming from a little old open stove.

There was wood on the floor, ready to be burned, it seemed. A man was kneeling next to it, glaring at Dean. Two foreign icy blue eyes were making their way into his soul.

Dean was about to ask what all this was about when, finally, his brain kicked in.  
  
  
  
He would have preferred it didn't. The minutes he had just spent were mercifully free from his brother's death memories. His face must have fallen because something changed in the stare he was still submitted to. It ceased being openly hostile. The eyes lost their focus. Then the head turned to the stove, leaving only a mass of dark unbrushed hair in Dean's line of sight.  
  
Dean lay down, fighting the tears. He wasn't one for crying, especially not with an audience. But freezing his face wasn't helping, not really. It reminded him of Sammy's bitch faces, the ones he loved causing. Sam never cried either, even as a child. If he was upset, he would withdraw, and go read a book and Dean would tease him, like big brothers did, calling him a nerd, while he fixed them dinner. He had looked after Sammy his whole life and that was all for nothing.  
  
  
  
He tried going to sleep again, but every time he closed his eyes, he saw Sam fall. Sometimes in slow motion, sometimes so quickly it raised a flow of adrenaline in Dean's system again, even though it was too late. He was trembling under the warm blanket he was under.  
  
A new smell invaded his nostrils. Meat. He heard a small thump next to him:  
  
“You like hamburgers? I made two. I would let you eat on the couch but I just cleaned it the other day.”  
  
Dean shook his head and looked behind him. There was a corner bench around a small table, like in diners. Dean wanted to say he wasn't hungry, that he was too upset but his body disagreed. So, he joined the man and took the offered burger. It was delicious, a moment of bliss, soon replaced by bitterness. Sam.  
  
He looked at his host, who didn't look back. The man was pale, he had lines under his eyes and all his movements were very, very slow. Dean had a vague impression that he had heard the guy's name but it wasn't coming back. Well, time to be sociable a little:  
  
“I'm Dean.” No reaction. “Dean Winchester.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
Dean growled:  
  
“And you are...?”  
  
The man sighed and finally looked up:  
  
“My name is Castiel. This is my home and I'm helping a friend hiding you, even though you are a  virtual stranger. Do you have other questions?”  
  
The tone was annoyed enough for Dean not to press it. The situation was clear, anyway, he was safe, his thigh hurt horribly and Sammy wasn't there. Although he wanted to know if they had found his body, he doubted that Castiel could tell him. The last mouthfuls of food were hard to swallow.  
  
  
  
He got up, putting all his weight on his left leg, when he felt the floor sway. He grabbed the table and put a hand on his forehead. No, he didn't have a fever. He walked cautiously to the couch but Castiel spoke again, in this tired, toneless voice Dean was still not getting used to:  
  
“Perhaps I could show you your room. It was easier to let you sleep in here the other day, but I'd appreciate to have my living room back.”  
  
While he opened a door next to the fridge, Dean wondered at the words “other day”. How long had he been out?  
  
This time when he felt the room rock, he saw the ceiling lamp move. It didn't feel like an earthquake and anyway, they were too far from California, weren't they? He had no idea where he was but he was sure Henricksen hadn't driven for more than a few hours before dropping him in here.  
  
“I hope you're not seasick. It's normally quite calm but there's a lot of wind outside.”  
  
Dean followed Castiel in a small room with a twin bed tucked under a round window:  
  
“What are you babbling about?”  
  
Castiel opened the bed and patted a pillow:  
  
“This is a barge. An old one at that. I don't own a car so this is how I travel.”  
  
“You mean a boat?”  
  
“Yes, a boat on a canal. Or rivers, I have a very long itinerary... Only call me if it's important, I need to focus. We'll look at your wound tonight.”  
  
  
  
A freaking boat... Would it shield him from Crowley or from the FBI? Well, it had until now, it seemed. This Castiel guy didn't sound worried, although Dean could well imagine him staying stoic and maybe a little bored even during a shooting. It was like he didn't have a soul.  
  
The bed swayed, softly, Dean went to sleep. When he woke up, some time later, he didn't move, just looked at the piece of sky he could see through the window. It was grey outside.


	3. Down the rabbit hole

Dean stayed in bed the next few days. Sometimes the barge moved but he didn't know where to, nor did he ask. He didn't care.

Sam would have loved the boat, ask a thousand questions, correct Dean when he would use the wrong term. He would surely have made Castiel smile, he was that sweet.

Dean's heart was hollow and his eyes dry. The loss was too much for him and it was his fault. Back there, he should have jumped, pushed his brother out of the way, taken the bullet for him and he hadn't. He had been egotistical, driven by fear, while Sam was being righteous, defending the innocent, even one like Ruby, who had fooled and manipulated him.

He was pure, somebody to protect at all cost and yet Dean had failed...  
  
  
  
In the back of his mind, memories popped out, showing his brother at random times, whether as an adventurous toddler rummaging around in cupboards while Dean hid away all the knives and poisonous products, or as a graduate from Stanford, looking silly and as proud as Dean felt at that moment. Sam who wouldn't stop growing, who wore long hair because he liked it. He didn't see Dean punch the guys who called him “a freaking girl” or worse. He didn't walk to school alone, Dean was always with him. He looked adorable but he wasn't weak. He faced their father when John forbid him to go to college. He was so much stronger than Dean, so much better. He was the one who should have survived.  
  
  
  
The wound looked worse than Dean would have thought. The first evening, Castiel very patiently changed the bandage and applied the medicine with the cat and dog logo on it that the vet had put in a bag for him. Dean was so down, he couldn't find the energy to feel embarrassed. Here he was sitting in boxers, on the mattress, his naked leg trembling slightly, as it did non stop since the shooting, looking at a male, who wasn't a doctor or a nurse, wrap him up with care and a sort of icy kindness that made Dean wonder whether the man loathed his presence here, or just didn't mind it. He would have preferred him to look angry or frustrated. All was better than this dull-looking face.  
  
  
  
Castiel brought food on a tray that he left on the night table. Once he silently handed Dean a thermometer then went out the door.  
  
He came back five minutes later, asking:  
  
“So, how much?” Dean shrugged and Castiel sighed: “Okay, I'll give you five more minutes.”  
  
Dean didn't take his temperature. What if he died, anyway? Sam wasn't there to miss him.  
  
  
  
But Castiel didn't give up until he caved in. It turned out he had a fever. Instead of giving him regular stuff, Castiel came with a spoon containing honey and a weird liquid. It tasted so foul Dean spit it out on Castiel's shirt.  
  
The man looked down, took his spoon and came back with a bigger one:  
  
“I've added lemon juice. Now swallow.”  
  
Dean obeyed. Whatever hippie stuff he had been fed, it worked, clearing the fog in his head, like the wind did on the canal every morning.

It didn't heal his mind, though. Dean hadn't dared ask for a glass of whiskey but his body craved for alcohol. He knew he didn't deserve the relief anyway. He had to face his cowardice and accept it.  
  
  
  
The next morning, he rebelled a little from his apathy. Today was a Friday, a least he thought it was. Castiel had alluded to a farmer market for the next day, for which he needed to have reached a specific town. Dean ventured back in the living room, to take his mind of the creeping guilt, but didn't find his host. He hopped around and found a cabin at the front with a freaking big wooden shipping wheel. Castiel was handling it, his eyes focused on the canal, his gestures precise as the muscles on his arms moved gracefully. Dean felt safe, just watching him.  
  
He tried a conversation:  
  
“So, this market thing?”  
  
Castiel grumbled something, stirred on the right, then on the left. After a minute he answered:  
  
“Yes, what about it?”  
  
“Oh... I was wondering? Do you need to get there to get some fresh food? I guess your grocery bill will double now that I'm here. I would pay you back but I can't use my bank card and I barely have any cash.”  
  
Castiel spared him a glance, then went back to stirring:  
  
“I understand. Yes the market will be the occasion to buy food, but also for me to make money.”  
  
Dean waited but as nothing more came, he asked:  
  
“What do you sell?”  
  
“Honey.”  
  
“You make it yourself?”  
  
“Yes. Every stop I take is to one of the beehive farms in my watch. None of the land belongs to me but I'm an expert on beekeeping, so some friends are letting me use it and in exchange they get free jars.”  
  
Dean nodded. When it wasn't mixed with disgusting plants, Castiel's honey was delicious:  
  
“So, you'll be gone the whole morning?”  
  
Castiel shook his head:  
  
“One of the sellers will come here with some food and will take the products. I don't like to see too many people.”  
  
Dean believed him. The man was the definition of a hermit. There was a large library taking up every free space on the walls, filled with battered pocket editions. No TV set or computers no cells, it was a miracle Henrickson had managed to contact him.  
  
  
  
Castiel took a big beekeeping-suit out of a closet, put it on and crossed the little plank leading to the embankment with big steps, looking like an astronaut ready to walk the moon. Dean looked at the trees and the muddy path, so near and inaccessible. He wondered if his face was posted in police stations. If that was the case and things somehow worked out, the FBI trick would be out of the question from now on. He and Sam would have to think of something el... He closed his eyes. Who was he fooling? The Winchester team was no more. He was useless, a burden for total strangers who took pity on his sorry ass.  
  
  
  
After a few hours, he looked into the cupboards and started working on dinner. There was some steak in the fridge and a few vegetables. He cooked the meat but also fixed a tomato salad in memory of Sam's “rabbit food”. He would sell his soul to have him standing right here and tease the hell out of him as he had never agreed to preparing salads while his brother was alive. There were a few tears in it but he masked them with some sauce.  
  
  
  
The man from space finally came back, with a small bag. He went to his room to change while Dean set the table and put the food on it. He heard the steps stop behind him:  
  
“You cooked?”  
  
“Yeah... Hope you don't mind. My leg's better and I thought you would like it if everything was ready.”  
  
“I do.” Castiel slipped behind the table: “Thank you, Dean. Victor was right, you are a good person.”  
  
Dean didn't answer.  
  
  
  
“You can help yourself to the books you know.” Castiel said while Dean washed the dishes.  
  
Dean had spotted the sci-fi “section” with all the Vonnegut books but he didn't feel like reading. “Thanks. I'm not a big reader.”  
  
Castiel gazed at him, something he hadn't done for a long time. His eyes looked pensive and warmer. It was strange how much it changed his whole face, making him look more human, more handsome even.  
  
“What about your brother?”  
  
Dean pinched his lips. He wanted his voice to sound normal but he was aware it was just a broken whisper:  
  
“He loved to read. He studied law so he had to, but he also liked fiction a lot. I think you guys would have gotten along.”  
  
“How are you coping?” Dean looked up, meeting Castiel's eyes, not bothering to hide his pain anymore. “I see. Victor told me the scene was a mess, you were lucky.”  
  
“Not lucky, no, just a coward.”  
  
The other man gave a start “How so?” His tone was like steel as if he was regretting helping Dean if that was the case  
  
“I hid. It was a reflex but it cost Sammy his life.”  
  
“Really? Do you have an idea why you had this reflex?”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“This isn't your first dangerous case, I guess. What was your purpose?”  
  
Dean was stumped. He reflected for a few minutes then he replied:  
  
“I guess I wanted to shoot at the goons. It's always more effective if they can't see you.”  
  
Castiel relaxed:  
  
“Well, then you were efficient, not a coward.”  
  
  
  
This revelation should have helped but Dean still felt guilty.  
  
Castiel pressed on:  
  
“What happened else?”  
  
And suddenly, Dean knew:  
  
“We fought on the way to Crowley's. The last word I said to him were nasty. I loved him so much but he died before we could reconcile.”  
  
“Well” Castiel said, and for the first time his voice was kind “That is unfortunate, it's true, but that's not what killed him. Cut yourself some slack.”  
  
Once again, Castiel was giving him an order and Dean had to obey.  
  
  
  
He got up, his hands on the bench to help his balance and walked to his room when he heard Castiel call him:  
  
“Dean, wait! Do you play board games?” He turned and nodded. Castiel lifted the couch and extracted a box  
  
“'Sorry'? Isn't that a child game?”  
  
“You want to play or not?” Even then, the tone was commanding.  
  
“Yeah, okay, don't be a dick about it.”  
  
  
  
They played for two hours. When he went to bed, Dean felt lighter. The guilt had been replaced by sadness. Now, he just missed Sam. Castiel was a poor substitute. Fortunately, Dean’s brain was too tired to listen to his heart, so he slept well.


	4. Gabriel

The next morning, after breakfast, Dean went back to his room with the Vonnegut book and stole a pack of crackers on the way. He had looked for beer in the kitchen when cooking the day before, or wine or, well, anything to fog his brain a little but it seemed Castiel didn't drink.

 

Around 8, there was a commotion and a loud voice shouting outside his door. After a few minutes, he was shocked to hear Castiel yell:  
  
“Gabriel, that is not funny! You could have dropped them!”

 

Dean looked tiredly at the door. He hoped Castiel's friend wouldn't stay long. His leg hurt a lot and he was fighting the urge to contact Victor to ask if Sam had been returned to Jess, if there was a funeral, if there was a way he could attend. That was another way of betraying Sammy, not even saying goodbye, not being there to support those who had loved him.

 

He could hardly see the written page in front of him. At some point, he was rereading the same sentence for the fifth time, it was still making no sense, when the door banged open. He gave a start, winced at the pain and looked in terror at the man at the doorstep. He didn't look very fierce (especially with the lollipop in his mouth) barely five foot tall, looking like a big mischievous child, smirking at Dean before turning away to shout:  
  
“Oops, looks like it's a “he”, not a “she”, then. But he's yummy anyway, looks like you're having fun at last. I was worried I would have to send you a professional, one of these days...”

 

Castiel came into the room, looking furious:  
  
“I told you not to pry Gabe. This is serious. Now go sit at the table, we all have to talk.”  
  
He pushed Gabriel out of the room, grabbed Dean's shoulder and dragged him with him. Dean bit his lips not to react when his leg hit the frame but he still let out an unmanly whimper. Castiel stopped immediately. He rubbed his eyes and face, took a big breath in and whispered:  
  
“I'm sorry Dean, I'm losing my temper, it is unworthy of me."

 

Gabriel was seated on the bench, looking like he had just gotten detention. There was a Peter-Pan-like hat placed next to his hand. He glanced at Dean and winked. Dean sat opposite him with a sigh. Castiel stayed standing, hands flat on the table:  
  
“We are friends, Gabriel, and I'm grateful for all the help you've provided, but what you did is unacceptable. This is my home and you're not welcome to look around as you please.”  
  
Gabriel pouted. Dean was starting to like him, although he was still worried.  
  
“I get it, Cassie, but it's not as if I could have found some marijuana plants or something, you're such a goodie-goodie, I can't even tease you. And for the hundredth time, call me Gabe. It's fine if you like both flavors of lovin', you don't have to hide your guests for me, I swear I won't try to steal him.”  
  
Dean looked daggers at him, which made Gabriel chuckle.

 

He looked at Castiel, at his bent back, at the lines around his eyes and it struck him. The man was in pain, as much as he was, he was just better at hiding it. Even though he had no idea what made him sad like that, Dean felt whiny compared to him. He asked softly:

“You think we can trust him?”  
  
“No.” Castiel answered wearily “Gabe is a manchild...”  
  
“Hey! Don't use my nickname for the first time to speak ill of me, please, or I'm out of here and you can go sell your honey on your own.”

 

Castiel reacted fast, his hand like steel around Gabriel's wrist:  
  
“Listen to me at least, then you'll decide. This man here,” He waved at Dean “is on the FBI's wanted list for attempted murder.”  
  
Gabe whistled, then schooled his features:  
  
“That's why you're walking funny? I thought there was another reason maybe...”  
  
“Gabe!”  
  
“Okay, stop yelling. Just tell me why you're harboring a criminal. I know you quit but still...”  
  
“It's more complicated. He is innocent, although he can't prove anything.”

 

Dean felt irritated at being talked about as if he wasn't present. He didn't say anything, though. Castiel still looked horribly tense and Dean felt the urge to brush the man's back to ease things a little. Castiel was still talking:  
  
“Gabriel, it is of the utmost importance that you keep quiet about Dean. A dangerous man, with lots of connections and hired killers is after him and if the words got out, we could all be killed.”  
  
“Not if I'm here to protect your asses, Cassie, I don't look much, but I can hold my own in a fight.” Dean smiled. Gabe patted his arms:  
  
“Looks like Dean and I are fine, Castiel. You know I'm rarely serious but I get it, my mouth is sealed. I won't mention your fugitive... Wait a minute, I know how tight you can be, you won't have enough food and it's not like you can afford much more.”  
  
Castiel looked hurt as Dean turned to him:  
  
“Why didn't you say it? I can't stay if it's such an inconvenience. I should leave and look for a job. Maybe I'll escape notice and that way you'll be safe.”

 

Castiel didn't reply. His eyes were bearing into Dean's as the two men stared at each others, and a small smile appeared on his lips. Because Dean was leaving?  
  
“Thank you, Dean, that's very noble of you, but you can't go anywhere until your leg is healed. I gave my word that I would look after you and I don't intend to fail that promise. So you're staying. I can always find a way to make ends meets.”  
  
“I'll help” Gabriel said, breaking the intense gazing as Castiel turned to his friend “I'll bring you what I haven't sold. Plus the girl who sells meat has a soft spot for me. If I mention a date, I think I can come back with a few more steaks.”  
  
“That's very noble of you too, Gabe.” Castiel's tone was soft again.  
  
They all got up and Dean helped Castiel fill the cupboards and the fridge, while Gabriel left, putting his hat back on his head, with a : “I'll be back by noon! Unless my good looks get me laid of course.”

 

Dean didn't know if he was allowed to ask about Cas' depressed look. The man had frightened him when he was chastising Gabriel and given how secret he was, Dean doubted he would tell him anything. And what comfort could Dean bring anyway? He was broken, living with another broken man. Maybe, they just needed to be quiet and respectful around each other, that didn't require much effort, at least not when Gabriel was around.

 

Gabriel was punctual, crossing the plank at exactly noon.  
  
“Apparently, you didn't get laid.” Dean teased.  
  
Gabriel grinned:  
  
“That's because, I'm a gentleman, Dean-o” Dean winced at the nickname. “I may have her number hidden on my person, though. And here's some meat for you ungrateful guys.”  
  
“Thank you, Gabriel” Castiel said, coming back from the front cabin “I'm sorry I was so stern, earlier. I do appreciate your friendship, I assure you. And I trust you.”  
  
Gabe looked a little taller, after that. He and Dean talked a little, after that, about movies, while Castiel finished cleaning the place up. Dean wondered if he ever went to the movies. Probably not, too many people...

 

Before Gabe left, he took something from his bag and discreetly handed it to Dean with a wink. It was a bottle of scotch. Dean mouthed a grateful 'Thank you' and got a quite dirty wink in response.

 

In the evening, Castiel looked distant again. Dean couldn't help feeling hurt. The loneliness was bearing on him. It was like when Sam went to college and he was left alone with their father. John had stopped caring about Dean long ago and kept disappearing to bars and poker sessions. Dean was working long shifts but all his money went to his dad. He couldn't say no, even then, he loved him too much. Then John had left and Sami returned. He wouldn't anymore.


	5. Loaded dice

The market day and meeting Gabe was the most eventful thing to happen for quite a while. Cas drove the barge to another location, then another, sometimes to places without beehives. They left the canal and entered a river lined with bushy trees and even a few small islands filled with water birds and reeds.

 

Castiel was infuriatingly slow, which was exasperating Dean, although he would reluctantly admit it was a good thing for his own recovery. Nothing was hastened, meals took a long time, in silence, with both men looking either down at their plate or out the window but never at each other. Sometimes, Dean would go sit on the barge's deck and take in the sunshine, as much as he could, while Castiel was quietly getting things ready to move again. Of course, Dean only did that whenever they were in a very remote location. Castiel could be quite forceful in terms of safety. And when Dean would just shrug, because, after all did he have that much to live for? Cas would put his foot down:

“We could both get killed if you're found. I would very much not like to die today. I have a beehive waiting for me and they really need my help.”

That brought the ghost of a smile on Dean's lips until Cas turned away from him and ignored him again.

 

But the turtle-like speed had drawbacks. Dean still had no idea where they were but it wasn't far enough from the deathly threats that kept him awake at night. A part of him still wanted to see the next day, sometimes talking in Sam's voice and he knew he owed his brother that. If he had died instead (and he still wished that, so very much), he would have wanted Sam to live a good life without him. He appreciated Cas' presence a little more now. Of course, they weren’t really friends, but Cas was nice to look at, even if he wouldn’t talk. It could be worse.

 

He cooked a lot, and soon, Cas let him do it all the time. It helped focus the mind, forget the pain a little and also made him feel a little useful. He couldn't do much more and Castiel still had to change Dean's sheets or wash his clothes.

 

Dean brought up card games one day. Castiel looked at him like he had grown a second head, then shrugged:

“I don't think I own a card deck.”

“You don't think?”

“Sometimes Gabriel leaves things in the barge and I find them later. Some items were quite... racy, actually.”

 

Dean hid his laugh. Castiel looked like he'd never watched any porn. They looked around until Dean found a small cupboard in the hallway. Cas knelt and frowned:

“I had never seen that one.”

“It's locked. Do you think you'd have the key?”

“It's the same one for every lock. Wait a minute.”

 

Cas came back and crouched next to Dean, his breath on his neck. It wasn't the first time Cas had forgotten about personal space, so Dean didn't react. In the cupboard, they did find a card deck and a checkerboard. There were also dice and Cas gave an awkward smile:

“This I can play. Do you know yams?”

Dean was busy recovering from the shock of witnessing the smile. He sat on the wooden floor and shook his head. Cas stood up:

“I played it a lot at work, I'll show you.”

 

The game sounded suspiciously like poker, although it didn't involve any betting. Castiel was focused, his blue eyes following each dice until it landed, as if he could will them to follow his command. Dean’s eyes followed Cas' hands, watching his slender fingers gently shake the dice before releasing them.

 

Once they had played for a while, Cas put some water in the kettle and prepared some tea. Dean grabbed the dice and blew on them:

“My turn to teach you. How about Gin? It's a 52 card deck, isn't it?”

 

They played a lot that afternoon. At some point, Cas described a French dice game, called 421:

“How come you learn that, Cas?”

“Work.”

“Not beekeeping then? I don't think bees are good at games. Or do you mean Gabriel?”

Cas shook his head. He pushed the dices away and sighed:

“I used to work as an FBI agent. That's how I knew Victor.”

“Oh!” Cas looked so non-threatening that picturing him holding a gun felt ridiculous. On the other hand, it explained his bossy-ness “Were you his partner?”

“No... My partner was French. He's the one who taught me the dice games. He was very funny.”

 

But Cas didn't look amused at the memory. His eyes were almost dead. Dean felt a shiver in his spine:

“What happened?”

“You don't want to know.”

“Why? Because you'd have to kill me? Get in line then.”

Another smile rewarded Dean. He was getting good. Cas got up and poured the water on the tea leaves, then said:

“Balthazar was an airhead. He liked the action and catching bad guys, but he was irresponsible. He made many mistakes and one had...” He gulped and Dean could have sworn there was a tear fighting to get out of Castiel's eyelids “... unfortunate consequences. I quit after that. It was that or kill him.”

 

Dean sat up straight, all the lightness of the afternoon forgotten. Castiel's voice was so dark and dangerous, even he was frightened. He didn't say anything, hoping Cas would calm down and change the subject, which he did:

“The way you talk about Sam sometimes... It feels like he's your son.”

Dean didn't want to talk about that, but Castiel was opening up and he felt he had to give something. His voice shook:

“He kind of was. Four years younger. Our Dad was... not good at parenting. I did what I had to do.”

Castiel looked up, his blue eyes piercing through Dean's defenses:

“It's very commendable. I know the feeling. My wife left when my daughter was a toddler. I had to take over both parenting roles.”

 

Cas was a Dad? He had sex once? Dean felt bad for underestimating the guy, his respect for him peaking:

“Where is she?”

“Who? My wife?”

“No... I meant... your daughter?”

“She's dead.”

 

Dean felt the bile in his mouth. He had asked one question too many. Given how he, himself didn't want to talk about losing Sam, he couldn't even fathom how Castiel felt in that moment. He had been a _goddamn_ father and... no...

 

Dean rarely met kids, as an adult. Yet the idea of one getting hurt was unsettling. Kids weren't supposed to die, period. And Castiel, who was a sweet soul, wasn't supposed to turn into a zombie because of that.

The pity flowed through him, making him lift his hand to reach for Castiel but he stopped it. He did know about hurt and he definitely knew about pride.

 

He waited, for Castiel to open up, or to change the subject, but instead, the man grabbed his cup of tea and walked out. Dean couldn't follow him on land and he didn't want to. He wanted to leave, get his life back, see Sam again and forget about this beautiful weirdo whose pain was so heartbreaking to witness.

 

So, he took a clean bandage in the cupboard, along with the medicine and quietly sat on his bed, twisting his leg to reach every part of his wound.

 

“Dean, what are you doing?”

Dean didn't look up and replied, his teeth grinding as he tried not to let his physical pain show:

“I didn't want to disturb you, man. What you said... I don't want you to... I shouldn't have...”

 

Castiel knelt next to the bed, sighing:

“No, it's fine. You have been through something similar, I realized that, earlier so I should be able to relate and express empathy. I'm sorry if I still fail.”

Dean frowned:

“You didn't, Cas. You helped a lot the other day, when you took the guilt out of my head. That's why I needed, even though it's not completely gone.”

“It never is. I would know. I have been told I couldn't have done anything else,but I still thought that if I hadn't been her father... if I hadn't chosen that job...”

 

It shouldn't be possible for those blue eyes to show emotions but Castiel's looked devastated. This time, Dean didn't stop his hand from grazing Cas' cheek and landing on his shoulder.


	6. Harmony

The barge stayed one day more at its landing. Now that Castiel had let Dean see his vulnerable side, they began to talk more, on various subjects. It was much easier, although there were subjects they avoided. Castiel had a great sense of humor, with perfect deadpan delivery.

 

Dean relaxed, his mind beginning to clear of the fog that had entrapped it. Although he was still getting impatient about the limitations of his body. He couldn't wait to be fully independent. Then he would finally not have to let Castiel take care of his wound, leaving him passively staring at the man's face, marveling at the length of his eyelashes for instance. It was freaking him out a little, holding still while Cas touched him (he was always _Cas_  in Dean’s mind when they were this close.)

 

He stole Castiel's map, once and tried to understand where they had been. It was difficult to read as he wasn't used to nautical stuff and it was filled with scribbled annotations. A finger landed in front of him:

“We're here. We'll follow the river to that point.”

“What's the name? Dawson's Creek?”

“No, it's Downfield. What's Dawson?”

“Never mind... You write like a pig, anyway.” Castiel looked up with a smirk. Dean liked when he did that.

“Maybe, but that is only for my benefit, so it doesn't matter.”

“What if you get sick and I have to drive the boat myself?”

“I would never trust you with it, Dean.”

 

Cas looked strangely serious and troubled after this. Dean tried to lighten things, putting a hand on his chest in a mocking attempt of outrage:

“I am an excellent driver. Never even had a scratch on my car!”

“This isn't a car, Dean, nor a boat. It's a barge and it needs someone with experience at the wheel.”

“Did you get specialized training?”

“No...” Castiel paused but didn't close up “I've always like boats but mostly at the sea. My dad bought the barge when he retired, and that's the only thing I inherited from him a few years ago. I didn't have enough money to buy a new car when I started my honey business so I bought a book and followed the instructions very thoroughly.”

Dean was impressed and patted Cas' arm. He could feel Cas stiffen under his touch so he dropped his hand to his side. They spent an hour on the map, with Castiel showing Dean where he intended to go and where the market was situated:

“We won't be there on Saturday, it's way too far.”

“I know, I only go there every fortnight.”

“Every _what_?”

“Two weeks. Unless I have an engine problem. It happened once. Gabriel was very worried.”

“Didn't you call him?”

“In case you haven't noticed, I don't own a phone.”

 

Dean had forgotten. Sometimes he felt he had traveled back in time. The fridge and the electronic radars, that allowed Castiel not to scratch the barge, were the only reminders of the modern world.

 

* * *

 

 

Castiel told him about his favorite books and listened with wondrous patience to Dean vehemently protesting that Vonnegut was the only author worth reading. So Castiel agreed to read one of his novels and handed Dean _Tortilla Flat_. Every morning, after breakfast, they sat on the couch, shoulder to shoulder, and read a chapter or two, stopping to read aloud a great quote or, in Dean's case, laugh aloud at one of Steinbeck's jokes. Castiel smiled at him, and a long moment stretched between their locked eyes, before they went back to their reading.

 

They played cards every night, upgrading to games with betting, usually red beans. Dean had his own ass handed to him more times than he would have expected. Sometimes he joked that they should play strip poker and got a glare in response, followed by a thoughtful look.

Castiel learned fast and focused with ease. Dean spent too much time watching the way he would scrunch his nose or move his hair, and missed a few great opportunities.

 

Castiel's life might have seemed intensely boring at first, but Dean was starting to like the slow rhythm more. He would watch the sunsets, or cackle at the comical way two cranes were walking in the river bank and that would make his day.

 

And while Castiel didn't know much about pop culture, they could talk about art. Dean was more knowledgeable of course, trained to spot a fake Renoir or able to tell the exact year any famous painting had been done. Castiel was more of an amateur, having taken his daughter to museums (his voice was strained but he could mention her. Dean wanted to hug the hell out of him but he never dared) and attended the occasional art course in college.

 

They were careful with the food supplies but one afternoon, Castiel came back holding something flat wrapped in a cloth. It smelled like heaven, which meant it was pie.

“The farmer's wife, Anna, came to say hello as I was leaving the beehive. She insisted I come to have tea and then offered me this. I think it's blueberries.”

Dean was grinning like an idiot. Castiel put the pie on the table and cut it in small slices.

“I assume by the look on your face that you like pie.”

Dean moaned in pleasure, as he took a first bite:

“It's the best there is, no arguments possible.”

“I don't think you're very open to arguments. You're very passionate about your tastes. Claire was a lot like that.”

 

His voice wasn't as strained as usual, so Dean tried his luck.

“What happened to her?”

Cas sighed:

“Dean, I don't...”

“Come on, Castiel, this is eating you alive. Have you talked with a shrink after it happened?”

“No. As I said, I quit. Balthazar tried to explain to me why he had taken such a risk with the drug dealers we were working against and that he never thought they would attack him like that and I was so sick of listening to him... I punched him, broke his nose, I think, and went to Gabriel's farm to ask him for shelter. I worked there for a while and sent my resignation letter by mail.”

“I don't get it. How did your daughter ended getting hurt?”

 

Castiel couldn't answer. He was sobbing. It was so heartbreaking that Dean acted without thinking. His arms closed around the broken man letting him cry on Dean's sweater. A small reply caught his ears:

“They put a bomb. Balth and I were finishing something and, after that, I had planned some vacation with Claire. She was waiting in the car...”

 

Dean had been wrong. Castiel didn't feel better after getting things out. He was unresponsive, wailing and swearing. After hearing a forceful “Fuck!” that almost pierced Dean's eardrum, he decided that they both needed outer help. So, doing his best to keep the embrace, Dean walked crab-like to the small cupboard in his room where he had hidden the scotch. Castiel frowned but didn't refuse. He took a gulp directly from the bottle and Dean did the same.

 

After half the alcohol had disappeared, Castiel's sobs subsided. Dean thought he was getting sleepy so he pulled Cas into his side to help him on his own bed. But then he felt alcohol-imbibed lips pressed against his, followed by a wretched pleading:

“Dean, please. Help me forget.”


	7. Healing power

Dean blamed the alcohol. He blamed the despair on Castiel's face and the fact that it hurt his heart so much, he would do anything to make it go away. That included kissing Cas back, with as much force as possible, because, if they were about to make a mistake, he figured let's make it good.

Castiel was still crying, as he unbuttoned Dean's shirt. To Dean, this would have been a mood extinguisher but strangely, he felt more and more aroused. Castiel, all quiet and responsible, was going _wild_. Dean could hardly follow, from his nipples being bitten, to his ass being plundered and suddenly a certainty flashed through his muddled brain like a lightning bolt. He was going to bottom.

 

All the strange new sensations were softened thanks to him being drunk. In fact, they were barely strange, comforting really, as if Castiel had a healing power somehow, in his fingers. Dean felt he was melting, his skin like modeling clay in Cas' hands. He shuddered each time a pair of chapped lips found a new place to land on. In fact, he was shivering, whining. He offered his exposed neck. Castiel started kissing it with fervor, although at times, he missed his mark and kissed Dean's ear or the pillow.

 

Castiel and him were naked now, and Dean had no idea who had taken their clothes off. Their eyes met. Castiel was still broken, still in demand and Dean reacted instinctively, parting his own legs, offering himself. Castiel invaded him, with a clumsy but intense finger and Dean just lost all kind of control:

“Castiel... Castiel... Yes... Cas...”

Castiel wasn't answering, too busy making use of Dean, stretching him wide to accommodate him. Dean had never been with a man. The mere thought would have him tense up and scoff, but here, in this bed, on this barge, cut off from the world and lost in his bereavement, he found that he didn't mind. And when Cas pressed a certain place, deep inside, he realized it was very worth it.

 

Cas had stopped crying. His eyes were harsh and somehow soft at the same time. He was all muscles, lean and strong, unforgiving. He slipped in. None of them were sober enough to think about protection or lubricant. It hurt, like seven hells, but the look on Cas' face was making it okay.

 

They met each other, Castiel pushing, Dean shaking, even though their eyes were now closed. Dean was yelling his intense pain, his pleasure, his need and his sadness. Castiel was focusing on him, whispering now:

“So beautiful... you're amazing Dean... so good...”

 

And just like that, Dean sobered up. He was used to drinking and not a light-weight either. Here he was, on his back, fucked by Castiel and he didn't mind. In fact, he liked it, a lot. The pain felt like the punishment he was convinced he deserved. The pleasure was winning, though, building up and he couldn't do anything about it, Castiel was in the way. Should he ask him to touch it? Would Castiel listen?

 

He tried, shyly:

“Cas... please... need your hand on... So close...”

 

Castiel stopped in mid-thrust, looking upset. Yet, his hand traveled to Dean's dick and started stroking. He was having difficulty breathing, so Dean brushed his back, saying:

“It's okay, Cas... I'm good... It's good... Come with me...”

 

Castiel let out a rush of air, hitting Dean even stronger than before. Dean let out an undignified whimper and lost it. A feeling of contentment washed all over him. He was at peace.

 

A few seconds later, Castiel came too. He fell onto Dean heavily. Dean rolled him over. Cas moved and retracted. It hurt even more. Dean came to the conclusion that gay sex was awesome but no lube wasn't an option anymore. Even honey would do...

 

He fell asleep almost instantly, holding Castiel in his arms.


	8. Lonely together

Dawn was lighting up the cabin slowly, painting the wooden panel in pale pinks. Dean blinked, his mind foggy and his body warmer on one side. A sharp pain made him wince and he blinked, wondering sleepily why his backside felt like it had been... He sat up, fully awakened, pushing Castiel's naked body a little off the bed. The man grunted, rolled over, but didn't really wake up.

 

Dean's skin was shivering. He felt so weird. Apart from the mind-numbing pain, he didn't feel regret or even mild horror. Casual sex wasn't foreign to him even though he'd never been with a man. In fact, it had been damn good and he felt ready to try it again.

He still felt the hurt of missing his brother but it was just bearable now. Maybe they could help each other like that, give physical comfort for the personal loss.

 

He let his fingers thread through Castiel's hair and whispered:

“Hey...Cas...” The nickname that had slipped away during the act came naturally. He looked at Cas' freakishly long eyelashes, as they fluttered open. When he was sleeping, he looked like an angel, handsome and vulnerable.

Cas stared at him for a long while, as if he didn't remember who he was. Then, suddenly he jumped out of the bed, looked down at his state of undress, looked up at Dean with a guilty look, then ran through the door.

“Cas...wait!”

There was no way Dean could catch him, so he grabbed his clothes, put them on as quickly as he could and wobbled his way to the kitchen.

 

He prepared some eggs, careful not to let them burn. They had to watch their food stock and had decided to make one-ingredient breakfasts. After their activity last night, Dean was starving and hoped Castiel was too so that he would smell the eggs and come to the table. They could talk calmly about what had happened. After all, awkwardness wasn't an option given they were stuck together. Unless... and a cold dread ran through Dean's lungs at the thought, unless Castiel decided it was too much and threw him out. He had nowhere to hide and he knew that Crowley's men were much more stubborn than FBI. He just had the will to live back, he would try to hide and survive, but his leg was still a handicap.

 

His gloomy thoughts were interrupted by the scratching of a chair. He looked up at Castiel who had his blank mask on. Dean squared his shoulder and prepared for the yelling, but Castiel spoke softly:

“I'm sorry, Dean.”

What was he sorry for? Dean didn't answer, cautious. Cas gulped and looked down:

“I took advantage of you. I would blame the alcohol consumption but that wouldn't be a good excuse.”

That didn't seem like an rejection, so Dean answered:

“It's alright, Cas... We both lost control. You don't have to feel bad. You were really sad yesterday, I'm glad I could help you...”

“Help?” Cas was staring again. It was so hard to know how he felt. He sighed: “I didn't need help, Dean. I'm not weak.”

“That's not what I meant! I know you're not. But the memories...”

Castiel sighed:

“They won't get erased by me having sex. Believe me I've tried.”

 

Dean gave up. He was incapable of communicating what he felt. He wasn't sure what it was, anyway. So, he plunged his fork in his eggs and ate silently. Castiel followed his lead.

 

Castiel drove the barge to a new location and left soon after, carrying his space costume in a bag. Dean was feeling sick to his stomach. The backside pain was fading, but now, he felt rejected. He thought Castiel would be at least a little grateful. After all, he had taken Dean, without even asking. And Dean was sure he had liked it at the moment. But apparently, he was the one who was weak.

 

He prepared dinner but ate without waiting for Castiel. He left a note to look in the oven, then went to his room with a book. He laid on his bed, trying to read, but the words danced on the page. He felt lonely after all these quiet moments they had spent playing games or reading next to each other. The only person in the world to like him a little avoided him... the book was closed when the tears fell on it, so it didn't get too damaged. The sadness turned into exhausted slumber.

 

He was woken up by the sound of his door opening. Out of reflex, he looked for his gun, under the covers and pointed it at the intruder.

“Calm down, Dean, it's me.”

In the dark, he made out Castiel's lean figure, wearing boxers and nothing else. Dean put the gun back in its hiding place and watched Castiel walk out and sit next to him.

 

He opened his mouth to ask what the fuck was going on and was silenced by a kiss. Then Cas whispered:

“You were right, it helped.”

Dean tensed up. The deep rocky voice, filled with need was arousing, but he didn't want a repeat of the night before. It was really too painful and this time he wasn't drunk. Cas sat back and added:

“I brought some lubricant and condoms. Gabriel's thoughtful gift from a while ago.” His voice faltered “But if you don't want to... I don't want to force you.”

Dean relaxed. Castiel was a great kisser and his hands were making Dean feel hot.

“I want to. But, maybe, more preparation. I'd never done it before... with a guy, I mean.”

“I have.” Dean looked up, surprised. He switched his light on and opened the covers invitingly.

“Gabriel?” Cas let out a chuckle:

“God, no! I wouldn't trust him enough. No, it was someone else... I don't want to talk Dean.”

 

So, they didn't. Dean learned that night, and enjoyed. Cas took his time, entering slowly, making pauses and taking his time.

“This okay? Shall I stop?”

“No, don't... just move please, faster.”

Dean was melting, feeling like he was river and Cas was the boat navigating him. He felt like a flock of birds were taking off his chest. He felt alive and happy.

 

But the next morning; Castiel wasn't in the bed with him.


	9. A fragile dwelling

Castiel's behavior remained the same as before, back when they were friendly with each other, for the day that followed.

He didn't touch Dean, didn't kiss him, but he didn't shut down either. He had no beehive to attend to, no moving the barge, so, once again, they read.

But somehow, once in a while, he would talk. Dean took great care not to react, enjoying how the other man was opening up.

 

At first, it was casual, even practical remarks, but soon, it went deeper:

“She was dark blond, you know, like you...”

Dean took a steadying breath and asked carefully:

“Your daughter?”

Castiel nodded, then went back to reading. Dean felt some of the tension leave his shoulder. After a while, Cas spoke again:

“She liked animals a lot. Wanted to be a veterinarian. I thought she would grow out of it, of course. I told her there were many other worthwhile jobs and that she had all the time in the world to choose among them, and she would scold and then laugh... It was such a beautiful sound. I dream about it every night.” He paused, gulped. His voice became tiny, fragile : “I feel I'm betraying her whenever I forget something about her. So every day, I revisit all the memories. It takes time and effort and I owe her that.”

 

Dean reflected on that. Castiel was busy, emotionally. ****There was no place for him in his head. Their body needed solace but they were still mourning. He thought about Sam, so full of life, taking so much room:

“My brother, he was tall, man.”

Castiel turned his azure eyes toward him, and they looked less dull now. Dean went on:

“I mean, he was like a moose, broad and he touched the ceiling. I was jealous a little. He looked like a brick house and he was tough on the job, but deep down, he was a softie. He was fair too, and intelligent, much better than I'll ever be.”

Castiel looked pensive. He put the book down and shifted, just a bit, giving Dean his attention.

“You don't think you're a good person?”

Dean sighed:

“Oh, I'm honest. We lie a lot, we even have fake ID, but we don't steal and we never hurt anyone. Well, unless they attack us. But Sam, he had this greatness... He was a lawyer, got a Stanford degree, and he chose to work with me. He was like that, selfless.”

“And you're not?”

 

It was difficult to withstand Castiel's stare. Dean shook his head and stood up, walking to the stove to prepare dinner. He could hear Cas' voice stating calmly:

“You're limping less now.”

Dean shrugged. His wound was his punishment, his cross to bear for not saving Sam, he didn't want it to go away.

 

After dinner, Cas started the dishes. Dean fought with him. It was part of his job, a way to feel real.

But Castiel was stubborn. They glared at each other until Dean got an idea:

“Why don't we play poker and the winner gets to do it.”

He didn't expect the laugh. Cas gestured to the sink with a graceful movement!

“By the time we get a game finished, the plates will be too dry. What about rock-paper-scissors?”

“You're on!”

 

Of course, he lost. He always did, back with Sammy. He grabbed a cloth and took the wet plates directly from Cas' hand, making the process faster.

 

He waited for Cas to go to bed, wondering to which bed he would head for, but Castiel went out. Dean started to walk to his room but Cas came back in and said:

“I think it's safe for you to join me on the bank. There are many stars out.” so Dean followed him, slowly.

 

They didn't talk, just sat next to each other, gazing up. The night sounds surrounded them, making the moment even softer. In the dark, Cas put his hand on Dean's thigh. Dean put his head on Cas' shoulder. They stayed like that until the cold air forced them inside.

 

Cas chose Dean's bed, that night, and the one that followed. They would unite quickly, speaking only to guide or ask permission. Dean was grateful, though. He felt life was possible after all, if he could have this. Cas' skin sliding against his, his panting breath near his ears and that feeling of letting go, letting Cas take charge that was new and frightening but in this moments, exactly what he needed. He was still gone when Dean would wake up again, though but Dean understood a little better.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

 

They reached the market stop on the Friday night. Cas was busy stocking the honey jars, checking the lids and cleaning the glasses. Dean was looking with fascination at how focused Cas could be. It was like he wasn't really there. He wondered if he had always been that way or if it came from the solitude.

 

He was about to comment when there was a knock at the door. He frowned and went to hide in his bedroom. A few minutes later, Cas called him.

 

Gabriel was sitting at the table. Dean could hardly believe it. It seemed the man had aged ten years in two weeks. He had a hunted look and Dean's inside froze bit by bit.

“Cas, listen to me, please, you have to leave. The FBI agents, I fooled them no problem, but the other guys... They looked ready to kill me, or torture me on the spot.”

 

Dean could barely hear the rest. He was panicking but also making plans, as quickly as he could. He could reach the Mexican border. It was far, but he could find a car, somehow, drive all night and sleep in it. He wouldn't tell Castiel, so that he wouldn't try to stop him.

He schooled his features, poker face at its best but Cas saw through it and shook his head.

Dean sent him a pleading look that he hoped would mean “Let me protect you. You can't die on my account.”

 

In the back of his mind, the question as to how they had been found out so quickly was nagging at him, but it wasn't urgent. Cas and Gabe were arguing now, Gabriel insisting he should stay with them, so that they would be one more person to protect Dean.

 

Dean felt weak and sad. These two relative strangers were putting him first and he didn't understand why.

 

Cas moved the barge as instructed, after telling Gabriel to leave and lay low. He didn't go to one of his usual banks, but headed to the island a few miles down, parking the boat underneath an enormous willow tree, partly hiding them from view. Dean was trapped. He couldn't swim, not with his leg. Plus, Castiel spent the whole night with him. He was more passionate than usual, more desperate. The strong emotions this excited finished Dean's willpower off. He curled into Cas' warm chest, wishing for things to go back to the day before, to the quiet and boring.

 

But the next day, the fear hit him when he woke up. Castiel was still there, for the first time, a protective arm around Dean's shoulder. He opened his eyes, saw Dean's alarmed look and started caressing him tenderly. Dean's lip was shaking. Cas moved down and suddenly there was a mouth around Dean's cock.

“Cas don't...”

“Shh...”

Dean gave up, giving himself to the pleasure. He realized at that moment that he needed Cas, that if he had to leave, he would leave a piece of himself in that boat. Even now, as they risked dying, it felt good. Castiel cared for him, even if he hid behind his grief. And he cared for Cas so much, he felt like crying, in a mix of satisfaction, guiltiness and loads of anxiety.

 

................................

 

_**It was six in the morning, the hour when the beehives awoke, when the flowers glistened, tempting, full of nectar, petals opening to the first rays of light. Castiel lay on Dean's bed, watching him sleep. He had always forced himself to go back to his own room, but now things were different. The threat of death had done a job on him, shaken his depression. Suddenly, he was really looking at the man beside him and realized how vulnerable he looked. Castiel had cared for his daughter, protected her until he couldn't. He had been useless and cold, and now he cared again, now he could protect someone precious. But he had seen the stubbornness in Dean's eyes earlier. He would try to leave. Castiel couldn't let that happen. This time, he would face the enemy, face the risk. Because Dean's soul was beautiful, in the way he cared for his brother, in the way he put others first. Castiel swore to free him.** _

 


	10. Not strong enough

Dean took a deep breath. He had managed to send Castiel to the other side of the barge to check on something and now he was trying to run in circles.

It didn't hurt that much, after all, he was used to roughing it up, as a kid as well as an adult. But his leg wasn't responding the way he wanted it to and he didn't like that. If he was on the run again, he needed his body to be efficient and responsive.

He didn't have time to exercise either. Cas needed his life back. Not just because of the death/arrest threats either. Dean appreciated how frugal the man could be, money had been tight when he and Sam were young too, but he was a big imposition. Castiel would be better without him...

 

He sniffed and focused on his reluctant muscles. What he needed was an escape route. He could take a look at Cas' maps, even if they were not easy to read. If he could reach the nearest city, he could disappear somehow. Or he could go to a frontier. It didn't help that he never asked in which state they were, Victor had driven for a long time and he was in the trunk.

 

His foot went in the wrong direction and he slammed his knee against the stove poker. Now, _that_ hurt like hell. He punched the wall in frustration and was nursing his hand as Castiel appeared at the door, looking worried. Their eyes met. Dean was resolved not to say anything but Cas didn't ask. He walked to the kitchen and foraged the small cupboard until he found a can. The content didn't fill their plates much but none of them complained. The silence was deafening. Dean was busy keeping his determination. It was getting more and more difficult when Cas was seated next to him, with his hair all tussled, and his smell... Dean focused on his breathing, closed his eyes and forced himself to picture Sam as he last saw him, the blood all over his shirt, lifeless. He couldn't let that happen again. If he had to die, he would be on his own.

 

He had to leave before night-time, when Castiel was taking his evening shower. He had found a big sack on the deck and used it to pack the few clothes he still owned. He thought about his apartment, with his closet full of flannels and the occasional suit. His life had always been troubled and his job didn't help but he still wanted it back.

 

He walked out on the island and stripped to his boxers. The water was icy and traitorous. His leg chose that moment to hurt again and he had to be careful for the bag not to get wet. He could picture Cas getting out of the shower, getting ready for sleep, opening his door. He chased the tears away, he needed to see where he was going.

He reached the shore, exhausted. After getting dressed, he started running but paused after only a minute. The pain was too much. He walked instead, dragging his leg like dead weight. On the map, the road had seemed really near but the scale must have been misleading. There were no lights, not even from the stars, hidden behind the dark clouds and the lamplight he had stolen from the barge wasn't enough not to get lost.

 

But he went on, biting his lips until he draw blood, fighting his need to be hold and protected, as he had felt that morning in the bed. He was so cold, so lonely.

 

He finally reached the road and started following it. He wanted a drink, something strong and cheap, like the bum he was becoming. He didn't have a penny, he would have to steal his food. The future was at the end of that road, bleak and dim. This is not what Sam would have wanted. But Sam was gone now, as was his father, and their friend Bobby who had raised them had vanished from their life. Dean didn't have friends and he rarely dated. He wouldn't be missed by anyone.

 

He had to stop. His body refused him another step. He fell flat on the road's side, then used his last drop of energy trying to roll behind the bushes to be hidden from view. That's where Castiel found him.

 

The hand was shaking him, but he pushed it away. He was trying to sleep but it was so cold and damp.

 

“Dean...”

“No.”

“Come on, Dean, get up!”

“Go away, Cas...”

 

And suddenly, Dean wasn't lying down anymore. Castiel had gripped his jacket and shoved him upright. In the early morning light, Dean could see the icy blue eyes, filled with fury and concern. He had never seen Cas so angry. His mind was getting clearer. Remembering where he was, he took a step back to flee, but his leg betrayed him again and he fell.

 

“Dean, come back with me, now!”

Dean smirked. This was the tone of a teacher or a parent. Well, Cas had been a parent. He stopped the smirking and tried to explain:

“You'll be better without me, Cas. Safer.”

“Nonsense, Dean. You won't survive like that. Your wound is not fully healed and you need to rebuild your strength. You can't walk properly!”

“That's not your problem, Cas! I won't put you in danger. You don't deserve to die because of me!”

 

Something changed in Cas' eyes. For a second, the blue became clear again, soft:

“You don't deserve to die either, Dean. I'll protect you.”

“With what? An army of bees? These guys are professional. The agents and the thugs.”

“So am I, Dean. I've resigned, but I can still use a gun. I've been on underground mission with tougher guys than that and I'm still alive.”

 

Dean wanted to argue but Cas wasn't giving up. He was dragging him out of the road back to the barge which was now parked against the shore. The barge, with its warm stove, and the comfy bed. Dean relented.

 

He slept alone, while Castiel moved the boat again. When he woke up for the second time that day, Dean looked out of the window but he didn't recognize the place. He started grabbing his clothes when the door opened. Cas entered.

 

Dean banged his head against the wall but he didn't care. Castiel was all over him, impatient and passionate. They were kissing messily, their tongues battling in their mouth when they heard the door bang.

 

After that, things went fast.


	11. Breaking Free

Castiel's stare turned icy. He pushed away from Dean and took a gun out of his back pocket. He opened the door a few inches, right before the creak could start and stood motionless for a few seconds. Then, he said in the same tone he had used to scold a fleeing Dean:

“Stay in there, Dean, lock the door!”

He was gone before Dean could answer.

So, Dean merely grabbed his own gun and joined Cas in the living-room. His leg was rested and he was tired of running away.

 

There was a man on the floor, who looked like he had hit his head on something, maybe the dinner table. The other mooch was pressed against one of the windows, trying to fight Castiel back. Dean held his breath. Cas looked wrathful. In frame, he was half the man opposite him, but he was driven by rage, shouting:

“You won't touch him! I will kill the whole lot of you before you can hurt him again!”

If he hadn't known Castiel, Dean would have felt frightened by the menace in that voice. His chest tightened as he realized Castiel was now protecting _him_ , undeserving little Dean, against a bunch of trained killers.

 

It was fascinating but Dean was trained too and knew not to relax. He turned to the front door, just in time to see it open.

There was a shot. The bullet went straight through the stove pipe.

Cas turned to the sound, losing his grip on the other guy, who took the opportunity to push and try to hit him.

 

Dean jumped to help Castiel, while trying to locate the shooter. Or shooters, maybe. Through the window, he spotted three figures, all aiming at the barge. They were outnumbered. Dean kicked the mooch who was attacking Cas in the chin, making him fall and grabbed the gun from him, then he hit him with it. Without thinking much, he dived under the table, taking Castiel's arm with him. Their heads bumped, while Castiel grumbled:

“Go away, Dean! You're in no shape. Let me deal with this.”

“One against five? You might be trained, but you're no superhero, Cas.”

The gun shots were intensifying, a bullet lodging itself in the wood two inches from Dean. They were going to be massacred.

Dean swore. He shouldn't have obeyed Castiel the day before. The idea of Cas getting wounded was occupying his whole mind, leaving barely enough for self-preservation.

 

He felt Cas' hand in his, squeezing it, and Cas' lips on his cheek. Then Castiel stood up, running for another cover and firing his gun in retaliation. Dean followed his example, moving fast, bumping in the hard wooden seats.

 

The barge trembled as the shooters ran on the frail plank. Dean wished it would break and send the men down in the waters to drown. But his luck had run out long ago.

 

He watched, powerless, as the leader of the new group ran toward Castiel. In fact, none of the new shooters seemed to spot Dean, still crouched under the table. If he fired again, they would and he was screwed.

 

But Cas wasn't shooting anymore. Maybe he had run out of bullets. With a cold chill, Dean started counting his own fires. He suddenly remembered he had stolen one of the mooch's gun and frantically searched it. Fuck! It must have fallen somewhere.

 

He couldn't locate it, until his ears got blown once again, and he saw the lead gunman collapse. A few other shots had the two other guys step back. Dean breathed again until he heard a horrifying scream. It was Cas.

 

He was up before he could think of a plan, propelling himself with as much force as possible. He just had time to give a punch when someone pulled at his leg. His body twitched and fell, bumping against a chair, opening his leg wound again.

 

He must have made a sound, maybe even yelled, because Castiel was back at his side, shouting:

“You fuckers!”

 

There was blood, everywhere, friend and foe, and lots of beating sounds. Dean felt faint, fading into unconsciousness. He fought to stay awake, to protect Castiel, to stay alive.

 

There was a shift in the enemy stand. Those who had gotten up were running away, leaving the fallen one still lying on the kitchen floorboard. Dean opened his eyes, starting to thanks the heavens or whoever the fuck was listening out there.

 

But then, they were voices and things were shit again:

“FBI! Freeze...”

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

There was no way to fight anymore. First came the elite force, with their black outfits and their perfect proficiency. They crept inside, looking around, but at least they didn't open the fire. Then two agents joined them, one tall and lanky, one shorter and bulkier. The latter offered Castiel a hand in getting up, then opened his mouth, but Dean cut him off:

“It's not his fault!”

“Dean, no...” Cas was grumbling, his voice lower and more dangerous than it ever had been.

Dean didn't care and went on:

“I forced him, at gunpoint. Forced him to let me hide here. I'll sign whatever paper you need, but I want him completely out of this.”

 

The tall agent frowned, then turned to Cas, smirking:

“Is he always like that?”

Cas shrugged, answering simply:

“Hello Uriel.” He knelt next to Dean, examining the wound, then said, in an emotionless tone: “There was never any coercing. I take full responsibility for my actions. Don't listen to him, he's delirious.”

“We don't need to.” The agent said and Dean clenched his teeth. Was everyone close to him doomed to be punished for his sins?

 

He started searching for ways to convince the feds, but his mind was, indeed, burning with a fever.

 

“Mr. Crowley is running from the law. His accusations against you and your brother have been rendered moot when it was found, from an anonymous source, that he had hidden some expensive paintings, in order to commit insurance fraud. Plus, one of his associate has turned on him and will testify about human trafficking and other major offenses. You're free to go, Mr. Winchester.”

 

The relief only lasted a second, because Dean's next thought was that he could call Sam... He was back to hurting, although a little part of him guessed that Sam would have been happy knowing Dean wouldn't need being a fugitive anymore. He felt his leg slip in the pool his own blood was forming, thinking it was ironical to be cleared if he was about to die from the wound anyway.

 

Castiel hugged Dean, his heart beating up comfortingly against Dean's chest. Warmth and comfort replaced the dark thoughts. It seemed they were all alone again, in their own bubble.

 

“How did you find him, Uriel?”

“Victor told us as soon as he got the evidence against Crowley. Looks like we came just in time to save your asses.”

 

Dean could have told him about punching half of the guys and of Castiel killing one, but he couldn't. His jaw wasn't moving. His eyes were revolving in their orbits and suddenly, everything went dark.

The last thing he heard was:

“Deaaan!”

 


	12. Between two worlds

Dean regained consciousness and wished he hadn't. He was lying on a mattress, or at least was pushed on it, with the floor moving and the walls shaking. He couldn't breathe properly and tried pushing away the arm that was bothering him.

“Sir! Stop fighting. You're hurting yourself!”

The words didn't make much sense. A semblance of memory flashed through his mind. Protect Cas. He had to. He took a swing, but his arm was weak and it was hell to raise. There was a deafening noise and voices shouting to cover it. He shook his hands again.

“Please, tell him to stop.”

“Dean? Dean, it's me Castiel. You've got to calm down, you're safe but we're in a helicopter headed to the hospital. Let the medics do their jobs.”

 

Dean obeyed for a moment, out of sheer terror. He was flying? And in the most unreliable, most fragile metal can possible. He had read articles about crashes because of the weather. The shaking never stopped and he recognized the sound now. He yelled.

 

“Dean, please, calm down. It's all right. I'm here, I won't leave you, I promise. We survived much worse. I won't let you die, remember.”

 

Dean was trembling. His hands couldn't stay still, no matter what he was told. His leg bumped into something. Dean yelled even more. His wound hurt as much as it had when he'd gotten it:

“He's too restless, we'll have to sedate him...”

“Is it risky? He's so weak already. Can't you manage ?”

“He's tearing the equipment away and keeps bumping his wound around. It's for his own good.”

“I know, but what if he's allergic or... He can't die, you see. I can't...”

“Don't worry, sir, and please move out of the way.”

A hand pressed Dean's as he felt a syringe pierce into his vein. He whispered “Cas...” and once again, blacked out.

 

Cas fell on the floor, blood oozing from his chest. Dean watched in terror as the blue eyes became opaque and the face pale. Strangely there was a part of Dean's brain that knew he was dreaming, but the emotions were still extremely rough each time it happened. He would yell, then opened his eyes and would see Castiel seated next to him, looking at him with serious, very much alive blue eyes and he would sink again. He had no idea if the other Cas was part of his dreams too.

 

At one point, he woke up in a small room that smelled like horrible disinfectant. He felt groggy but fever-less, which was a nice change until he noticed that Castiel wasn't there. He tried calling him but his voice was stuck in his throat. He closed his eyes, defeated, wondering when Cas had left. Maybe he hadn't accompanied him and Dean had hallucinated in the helicopter. After all, Castiel wasn't wounded and now he was well rid of Dean and his dramas. It was true that Dean's life was back on track, but somehow he felt homesick. Not from his apartment but from the barge. He was alone, now.

 

Someone was touching his arm and he jumped, making the metallic bed rattle under him. A nurse was staring at him, looking concerned:

“Sir, you've just been through surgery. It is time for you to wake up. I'll take you back to your room.”

Dean still couldn't talk, so he nodded. The nurse smiled and pushed him out. The hospital was packed, with people walking past them hurriedly, sometimes bumping into him. Dean hated that feeling of being passive and weak. He tried never going to the hospital, even when he was badly hurt. He had never been shot before though. He remembered the vet who had worked on him, hoping he wouldn't be asked about that.

 

There was a police agent at the door. He nodded at the nurse but didn't follow inside. Dean wondered if he was looking after his safety. It was true that Crowley's men were still at large. And Dean could testify for the murder of...

 

Fortunately, his train of thought was interrupted. The chair next to the bed was occupied. Castiel smiled at him tiredly. His dark hair was all mussled up, he had dark shadows under his eyes as if he hadn't slept for days. The dim hospital lights made his face look parched. But mostly, he looked real, as far from a dream as possible. Dean smiled back, feeling even weaker, but so very happy.

 

There was way less noise, now that the nurse and doctors had finished fussing over him and the door was closed. Cas had stayed all through it. He was quiet and they had seem to forget him but the surgeon had put his hand on Castiel's shoulder and said:

“Make sure your cousin take it easy. He was lucky he didn't get too infected. So you take care of him now.”

Dean had noted the words but was too exhausted to ask. He dozed off, with fingers woven into his.

 

The next time he was up, Castiel was looking out of the window.

“Hey, cuz'” Dean called, relieved to hear that his voice had come back.

Cas turned and walked back to the tiny bed. He put his hand on the sheet, a few inches from Dean's body:

“Hey, you. As you can see, I'm keeping up with the lies and concealments. It is much easier to do with the hospital staff than with truants, I have to say.”

“Thank you. I wasn't conscious for the most part but it did make a difference, you being there.”

“I promised, Dean. I'm not letting anything happen to you.”

Dean was feeling the tears come up. He turned toward the pale green wall and sighed:

“Can't wait to be out of this joint, anyway.”

“Oh.” Cas' tone was weird. He sounded disappointed, resigned almost.

 

Dean had no idea what to make of it. Until now, the only person he had needed was his brother. If Sam was all right, so was he. Working with him was helpful, that way, even though their job could be dangerous. But at least he could see him. Castiel was someone that would be difficult to look after. He was secretive and stubborn, not unlike himself. He smiled at the thought and turned back to Cas.

 

“You know... I was wondering...”

“Yes, Dean?”

“I don't really have friends. I mean I had Sam and... it's the same with family. So, I'll be on my own and...”

Castiel's gaze was unreadable. Dean felt like an idiot. He had thought for a moment that he could ask him to be back at the barge. He bit his lip and tried to correct what he was saying:

“Of course, I could pay for someone to come help. Or I could go live with my godfather. I haven't seen him in a while, but I guess I can track him down, I mean, it's just like a stolen painting but with a person and...”

“Dean...”

He stopped his yammering and waited. Castiel had closed his eyes and put his finger on his forehead:

“Dean, I would be delighted to be of assistance. You would have to come back to the barge, as I have to make sure the beehive are still all right. But if you don't mind and you trust me, then it would be my pleasure.”

 

Dean's forgotten groin started to burn at the thought of being alone with Cas again. He shook his head, stopped when he noticed that Cas was frowning and hurriedly replied:

“Yes, sure, I'd love that. You can teach me how to drive the thing, maybe? And when I'm better I'll help you at the market... Oh, fuck, I hope Gabriel is all right!”

“He is. I called him while you were in surgery. He says hi and he's sorry he couldn't be there to help us.”

“Well, he did help us, with the food and everything.” Dean paused, realizing something: “You know what, I'll have access to my bank account now. I can pay him back. And you too.”

Castiel laughed. Dean wanted to see him laugh everyday, every minute.

“That won't be necessary, Dean. We can split the groceries if you want and we can invite Gabe for dinner as a thank you.”

“Okay, that works.” Dean wanted to hug Cas, to kiss him, but he could still hardly move. He grinned instead and went to sleep.

 

Dean had managed to convince Castiel to go back to his boat, reminding him of his bees. Castiel had agreed but only if Dean was to call him every night at his friend's place. In the meantime, Dean slept, ate bland disgusting rabbit food, sweat his ass off in physical therapy and waited impatiently for it to be all over.

 

At the administration office, the nurse was swamped as well as attractive. Dean looked with astounding indifference, wondering how he could be turned on by only one person now.

“I'm sorry, Mr Winchester. Your file is hard to find.”

“Sure, it's okay, I've got plenty of time.”

“The thing is, we had to wait for the other hospital to send it and it went to the wrong server, so...”

“I'm sorry? What other hospital?”

She frowned and read something on the computer's screen.

“Oh, my! It looks like there's been a mistake. This is about a John Winchester.”

“Really, wow! That's my dad.”

“Oh that would explain it. It says here he was delivered some medicine last month. Maybe you were the one you picked it up and it got mixed up?”

“Maybe...” Dean lied. His father had been dead for a few years now.

 

He charmed his way into checking the birth date. They were surely other John Winchesters around the country, but this was too big a coincidence. Unless, of course, someone had hacked the hospital server and used his father's insurance for their own. What was strange was that neither he nor Sam had registered the death.

 

After shaking hand with the policeman and being told another one would follow him to the barge, Dean met Castiel in the lobby. He looked more rested and actually relaxed, which was a first for Dean. Even after sex, Cas still managed to look guilty. But here, he was looking straight at Dean, grinning, his eyes clear and beautiful. Dean was about to follow him when he noticed someone. It was a young girl he had met a few times already. Her name was Jess and she was Sam's new girlfriend.

Her tummy was just a little round.

 


	13. Suddenly everything changed

Dean grabbed Castiel's arm pushing him away:

“Wait a second, Cas!” and ran to Jess.

When he reached her he felt a little ridiculous. What if he had misinterpreted? Or what if she was pregnant but not from Sam? In a way, he wished she wasn't, for her sake, but the idea of Sam's baby, of family was something unhoped for, a way to keep on living.

“Oh, my god! Dean! What happened? I haven't heard from Sam for so long. I even went to your apartment... I filed a missing person report but the police was weird about it.”

 

Now that he could see her eyes more clearly, Dean saw the tears. He didn't want to upset her more, but it was important for him to know.

“Jess, are you...?” He put his hand next to her belly, without touching her. She sniffed and nodded. Dean felt like the worst messenger on Earth. He hugged her, as strongly as he managed, which wasn't much, and whispered:

“I'm so sorry... I saw Sam...He fell and… He's gone... I'll be a great uncle, I promise, I'll tell the baby about how great his father was...”

 

On his shoulders, he could feel tears soaking his shirt. Jess was having a hard time standing up, so he led her to a chair and knelt down. He grimaced, but kept his gaze steady, holding her hand.

“I'm... I'm sorry for being so emotional... it's the hormones, I tend to cry over nothing these days...”

“It's not nothing Jess, you're allowed to grieve. I wasn't so good myself... well, I still hurt...”

 

They were lost in their common loss for some time, before Dean remembered he wasn't alone. He turned and looked for Cas. The man was still standing at the same spot, his arms loose at his side and his face a blank mask. Dean waved at him but Castiel remained where he was. Dean didn't want to let Jess' hand go nor yell in a hospital. He gestured more forcefully, wondering why Castiel was so asocial. Did he believe that Jess was one of Dean's conquest or did the years spent living like a hermit made him incapable of normal interaction?

 

By the time Jess was calm enough to go to her appointment, Castiel had departed the building. Dean hopped outside, his heart beating fast. He suddenly wondered how they would drive back given that Cas didn't own a car. He scanned the parking lot and spotted the trench coat a few feet away. Dean felt his chest relax instantaneously. Castiel was getting out of a ridiculous large car that made Dean miss his own. They were too far from home for him to go get it and he couldn't drive anyway. He looked as Castiel opened the door for him, their eyes meeting as he offered a shoulder for Dean to put his hand on. He didn't look upset, as far as Dean could tell, but he seemed to have retreated in himself again.

 

Castiel was a prudent driver, way too much for Dean's taste, especially as they had a four hours drive in front of them. There was no sound in the car at first, until Dean decided to provide information about Jess. Cas sighed, his mouth pursed in a pained expression. Then he whispered:

“Parents without children and children without parents. Life is cruel.”

Dean didn't reply, there was nothing he could say to that. After a few seconds, Castiel added:

“I didn't feel I could help earlier. I gathered when I saw her crying that she knew your brother and was either a friend or a lover. It seems right to leave you two to support each other. But maybe I made the wrong decision. In that case, I apologize.”

 

Dean turned to look at his profile better. Castiel looked serious, as always and Dean realized how much he liked it. He liked how delicate his fingers looked on the wheel, while he knew how strong they could be in bed. He liked how deed his voice was and the way he talked, with elegant wording, and how he had heard him swear, over and over. He liked how dedicated he was in protecting Dean, the same way Dean had been in protecting his brother. He had tried to protect Cas too, but he had been too weak, too damaged. And yet, here Castiel was, with his sad smile and his wonderful eyes, that made Dean felt he could make it through anything.

 

Because he loved him.

 

He spent the rest of the drive looking out of the window, too chocked up to dare take a peek at Cas after that epiphany. There were so many objections in his head, he didn't know to which inner voice he should listen to. The one that said ' _You cannot love anyone, it would be betraying Sammy_ '? Or the one murmuring ' _He's so out of your league, it isn't even funny_ '?

And underneath all those, there was one he recognized fully. It was his father's:' _No chick flick moments, Dean. Be a man!_ '

He took a deep breath, wondering why these doubts didn't come before. Maybe fearing for his life had made everything feel unimportant. And he had only slept with Castiel, with no feelings or commitment, at least nothing he had been aware of at the time...

 

The barge looked different somehow, smaller and a little less bright. He felt like a stranger, out-of-place, still too shy to look at Castiel.

“You must be exhausted. You want to go take a nap before dinner? Gabriel is coming tonight, remember? I didn't forget the scotch bottle by the way.” Cas was taking ingredients out of the fridge, while talking. He didn't seem to mind that Dean wasn't answering. “There's so much food in here I feel wasteful. Most of it comes from the farmer market but I also went to a supermarket for the first time in years. It's so big and full, I had forgotten how stressful it could be...”

 

This time, he stopped. Dean hadn't moved from his spot. Castiel walked to him and took his arm gently:

“Come on, I've bought you some new clothes. I hope you won't think I've taken too many liberties with your money, and you do look good in your flannel, but now you won't have to wash it so often in the sink.”

He continued babbling while leading a struck Dean, as if the roles hadn't been inverted, as if he always talked that much. Dean wanted him to shut up and hug him, kiss him until he felt better but he didn't. Instead he sat on the bed and whispered a “Thanks”. Castiel smiled, a little tightly, and left to prepare dinner.

 

He was woken up by his phone vibrating against his butt. He had it mailed to him at the hospital, and that was a big change too. He was connected to the rest of the world now, and yet the one he felt the furthest from was in the next room.

 

But the text he read gave him back his smile. It read:'You had to be hunted by the Feds for me to hear from you again, you idjit? You'd better visit me soon.' Another text came with Bobby's address.

 

Suddenly Dean had a family again. Not blood, but made of love. The love Jess had for Sam's memories, the love that his godfather had shown them under his very gruffy exterior, the love that they would all feel for the baby. One was missing though, or at least it was incomplete. Because Cas was there for Dean, he was loyal and sweet and wonderful. But Dean wanted so much more, he wanted him to put him first, to tell him he was important.

 

He went to the bathroom and changed there. Castiel had been cautious, going with basic stuff. He didn't seem to know Dean's size, though. He doubted the new jeans would fit, but was pleasantly surprised when they did. He usually didn't wear such tight clothes, as it put his ass on display, yet he could on the barge, and he felt very free. Most shirts were grey or black, except for one green one. He put it on and went to the sink to wash his face from the sleep. The shirt matched his eyes perfectly.

 

When Dean joined him in the living-room, Castiel's eyes roamed over the new clothes, and if Dean couldn't hope for love, he could feel the lust. He didn't meet Dean's eyes and went back to the cooking. It smelled great.

 

“Hum, Cas, thanks for the clothes.”

“You're welcome, Dean, I hope they're warm enough. They suit you.”

“Yep, they are... I mean: warm.”

“I saw some nice underwear but I didn't know what you would like. You can continue to borrow mine.”

“Kay...”

 

Castiel was busy checking the oven and adding salt everywhere. He didn't look as composed as before and Dean put a hand on his shoulder to ask him why, when they were interrupted:

“Dean-o! Long time no see!”

 

 


	14. A grey heart

Dean kept his hand on Cas' shoulder and turned around. Gabriel was looking at them with a big grin. He was holding a bag that he handed to Dean, swung around dramatically and landed on the couch:

“So all those secrets and stress and anticipation and the main battle happens without me? That was very anticlimactic, I tell you.” Castiel shrugged at this but continued his cooking.

“Looks like it didn't traumatize you that much.” Dean replied, while taking out a bottle of a purplish drink with no label. He put it on the table and gave Gabe a suspicious look.

“It's Blackberry Mead. It's made locally and from Cas' honey at that. Delicious and nutritive.”

Dean took out some pistachios and put the opened bag directly on the table. Gabriel took a handful and started shelling them. Dean was relieved to see him looking like his old carefree self.

“A girly drink? And me asking Cas to buy some Scotch... I'm disappointed, man.”

“Try it before knocking it off, Dean-o. I bet my sweet ass you'll be plastered in no time.”

“You're on!”

 

Gabriel was right. And Castiel actually joined them although he only filled half his glass, turned the liquid around and kept making remarks about what the taste reminded him of. Dean chuckled and pushed Cas' glass to make it spill. Castiel caught his hand and held it for a while. Gabe smiled and said abruptly:

“So, you guys are banging now?”

Cas turned red in an instant. Dean looked away. He heard:

“This is very inappropriate, Gabriel. And I find the world quite lacking. Sexuality is about human connection and intimacy, not just fun. At least in my experience.”

Carefully, Dean looked in Cas' direction again. He was staring at his glass pensively. Maybe he was really drunk too. After all that's how they had begun, when they were trying to drink their pain away. He was about to say something to back him up when Cas pushed his chair back and got up:

“I'll finish preparing dinner. Dean, can you set the table?”

 

Dean sighed and followed him. He heard Gabriel snigger and shouted:

“Don't expect flowers or candles or shit like that!”

“Really, Dean-o? I'm disappointed. Luckily Cas' food tends to be delicious, it's a good thing you're not the one cooking.”

Dean didn't bite and brought the plates over. Cas put a big smoking dish in the middle of the table and frowned:

“Actually, Dean's a better cook than I. I've missed him these past weeks.”

Dean closed his eyes. Cas didn't realize how hurtful it was hearing him say that so casually. He suddenly realized coming here had been a bad idea.

 

He faked a smile through dinner, listening to Gabriel teasing Cas, who took it in stride and always answered seriously. It was one of the things he l... No, not going there again.

There was pie for dessert and Dean's heart leaped. Castiel knew him well. He was attentive and sweet and Dean wanted to cry. Here he was wanting a man's heart, when a few month ago, he would have scolded himself at the thought.

 

“So, I propose we play a card game.” Cas said, when they were finished.

Gabriel frowned and turned to Dean:

“I can't believe what I'm hearing. Is this your influence?”

Dean shrugged:

“Why don't you two start without me. I have a phone call to make.”  
  


It was weird being outside the barge without fear of being caught. If he wanted, he could go anywhere, leave the memories, forget his feelings. He had to try:

“Hello, Bobby?”

“Dean...”

The voice was gruffer than he remembered but still laced with affection. Dean felt warm all over. Here was someone who thought he mattered, who had loved him unconditionally. He felt his voice waver but he didn't let himself cry:

“So, I've been shot at. A lot.”

“So I've heard. And also that you didn't ask _me_ to help you hide.”

“I didn't know your number, Bobby. I don't even know if you still live in Lawrence.”

“I don't.” There was significant pause, then “I'm with someone.”

“Really? That's great, Bobby. What's her name?”

“Ellen. And she can't wait to meet you, so you'd better heal fast and get your ass down here.”

“Yeah... about that. I was thinking...”

It took a while to explain, especially without telling why he couldn't stay with Cas. But Bobby didn't disappoint.

“In which State are you, boy?”

In the end, it was decided. Bobby would come on the next week-end and pick him up. He would have to learn not to hurt too much until then.

Just as Dean was about to hang up, Bobby added

“I can pick your brother on the way, too, just send me his address.”

 

Dean's knees buckled underneath him. He had forgotten. He was so focused on his selfish pain that he had managed to forget about Sam. He choked as he tried not to sob.

“Sam's dead, Bobby. He was killed at Crowley's.”

There was a sharp noise, like a whale getting strangled. Bobby wasn't good at crying either.

“I don't understand...”

“I tried to save him, Bobby, I swear.”

“No, it's not possible...”

“Believe me, Bobby, it is.” He pushed the red button as his godfather was whispering:

“Wait...”

 

He left the comforting darkness and joined Castiel and Gabe under the harsh light of the barge's small lamp. Everything hurt. He sat down and looked at Gabriel who was looking perplexedly at his friend:

“When did you become so good at bluffing, Cas?”

“Ex-FBI agent, Gabe.” He smiled at Dean : “Care to join forces? I've just won a week supply of food!”

Dean smiled at Cas' quiet enthusiasm. He had a strong suspicion that he would pay for the food anyway.

“No, thanks, I... my legs hurt. I'm gonna lie down again.”

 

He could never really tell what lied in the blue of Cas' eyes, but the concern was still obvious. Gabriel reminded him of the game and Dean escaped.

 

He tried to fall asleep so Cas would leave him alone. Through the open window, he could hear the toads' soft responses to one another, along with the restless cricket. He had missed all that, the cold air, the absence of road noise, the cocoon that was the small bedroom.

 

But when Castiel opened the door, some time later, Dean's eyes were opened too. He heard the foot steps and saw an arm reach for the bed lamp.

“You need your medicine?”

Dean shook his head. Cas grimaced:

“Maybe you came out of the hospital too soon. I hate seeing you like that. I wish I could heal you with just a touch.”

Dean brushed his cheeks of the tears and sighed:

“You're so great. I won't ever be able to thank you enough for all you did.”

Cas' lips twitched upward:

“I can think of a way...”

His hands were already on Dean's skin. He batted it away. He wanted Cas so much, but it wasn't fair.

“I can't.”

Cas looked shocked. He stood up clumsily, knocking down Dean's water bottle.

“I'm sorry, Dean, I though... Of course, you need to rest. I'm sorry.”

The door closed quietly. But in Dean's heart it resonated for the whole night.

 


	15. The softness of dawn

Dean felt grey again. He had been so impatient to be back at the barge and now it was a painful reminder of their previous intimacy.  
Seeing Cas' little smile at breakfast, his hand caressing Dean's tenderly, and suddenly he wasn't hungry anymore.  
Opening a book and finding a note at the beginning saying how much Cas had liked the book and he could see why it was Dean's favorite and he just had to close it.  
Watching the dawn slowly unfold, with the river mirroring the pink and blue sly, with some cranes ambling along, breathing in the cold and crisp familiar smell, he wanted to flee.

In the afternoon, Cas put on his beekeeper space suit and gestured Dean to follow him. He almost refused but he was curious and he needed to use his leg more, so he walked along, wondering when he should stop before being stung.

Cas led him to a tree uphill, not far from a farm, then asked him to wait there. The beehive was situated in a clearing beneath him so he had a good view. He got to witness Cas' surprisingly agile movements and found himself wanting him even though he was almost shapeless in the suit.

He remembered when he had first met him, he had thought the man was a shut-in, who didn't do much, but of course he had been wrong. Castiel was talented in so many things. He had chosen to lead a quiet lifestyle and it suited him. Dean had never lived like that. He partied, he slept around and he worked. Adrenaline was his drug. Until Crowley's. Now he had another drug and he was looking at him, wondering if he would manage to leave with Bobby. He had to. Something told him it would hurt like hell though, worse than it did now.

They came back with honey jars, and as Dean helped, Cas had one hand free. He slid it into Dean's. It was still gloved and yet it felt soft. Dean closed his eyes, letting himself believe, for a moment, that he and Cas could be together. He managed to forget how fucked up he was, how unworthy of Cas. The happiness surge like a lightning bolt and lasted as long.

But it was enough for Dean to let Cas kiss him on the lips, in the kitchen, suit still folded in his hands. It was enough to let him caress his back gently, so gently that Dean was shivering from head to toe. It was enough for him to nod when Cas asked:  
"Do you want to? I'll be careful, I promise."

And he was. His hand was like a butterfly. Nobody had ever touched Dean that way. His clothes were disappearing but his skin was still covered, either by Cas' hands or mouth. He was particularly focused on Dean's leg and for some reason, it made him even more aroused. At one point, their eyes met and time stood still. Dean was filling his whole memory space with the blue he could find in Castiel's eyes. After an eternity, Cas opened his mouth. He started a word but seemed to change his mind and ended up kissing him, slowly getting his tongue in Dean's pliant mouth.

Suddenly Cas froze, pulled out an inch and raised a finger to Dean's cheek:  
"Are you crying?"  
Dean shook his head in a futile denial. It would be their last time. He had accepted that. In his effort to make the most of it, to treasure every seconds, he was getting overwhelmed. Cas had a little smile:  
"If you say so" he whispered and resumed his exploration. Dean felt he was falling into an abyss. The pleasure was everywhere, intense and filled with meaning. Cas was strong even when he was holding up not to hurt him. Dean felt cared for, precious. He almost shouted his love as he came.  
Castiel took him in his arm, creating a warm soft cocoon, and soon fell asleep. Dean fought to stay awake. Cas looked serene, beautiful. The tears were back but they were of gratitude. For Cas, for what he had awakened in Dean. He would never be the same, he knew. But he didn't think he would love someone else again.

The sun pierced through the curtain, a lone ray revealing Cas' hair, with his face hidden under the comforter. Dean had woken up early and wasn't moving, to make the magic last as long as possible. But finally, Castiel moved and opened his eyes. He blinked sleepily and grazed Dean's forearm:  
"This Sunday, I'll take you to the farmer's market. I'm sure you'll like it. We can choose the nicest apples and then we'll cook a pie. What do you think?"  
Dean stirred:  
"Actually, I forgot to tell you, yesterday. I called Bobby..."  
"Who is that?" Cas asked lazily  
" My godfather. He helped raise us. My father wasn't very good at... well being a father. He worked a lot. We stayed with Bobby a lot. But we had lost contact. I don't know how he found me but he sent me a text the other day. I invited him to come this weekend... I should have asked, I guess. I'm sorry."  
Cas chuckled:  
"No, don't be. I can't wait to meet him. He's important to you." He seemed to think for a moment "I'll give him my room. Unless you're uncomfortable... Does he know you... bat for both teams?"  
"Oh... Not really, no." He hadn't even thought about that. But he didn't want Bobby to know he was with Castiel in any case.  
"It's okay, Dean. I'll sleep on the couch and refrain from any touches." Cas smiled : "It will be hard, though. I don't think I've ever been this attracted to someone in my whole life."  
Through the smile, a hint of sadness passed through. Dean realized Castiel might have loved his daughter immensely but he never talked about his ex-wife. Had he cared for her? Loved her? Dean's own hurt came back, stronger than before.

Soon after, Castiel got up, to prepare breakfast. Dean stayed in his room until he felt all trace of tears had disappeared. Bobby had better come fast.  
Castiel raised an eyebrow at him:  
"Didn't you want breakfast in bed?"  
"Oh... No, it's okay, my leg doesn't hurt too much, don't bother."  
Cas shook his head with a smirk:  
"You're not used to being spoiled, I guess. I'm not either. I wasn't very romantic with my wife, I didn't know how. I'm not sure that she left because of that, though... Anyway, that's not a mistake I'll make again."  
He gave Dean a peck on the lips and went back to the kitchen. If Dean hadn't known better, he would have thought Cas wanted a little more than their nights together.  
He was feeling too much, so he grabbed his plate and walked outside, to eat on the deck.


	16. Touched by grace

On Friday evening, Dean started to feel more and more uneasy. Bobby was coming the next day and he had to tell Cas he was leaving.

He was betraying his trust and friendship, after all that Cas had done for him...

Maybe he would be mad and tell him off.

Maybe, and Dean feared that even more, Cas would be relieved and thank Bobby for coming, because he would be back to his quiet life, the one he wanted so much.

 

So, he manned up and hopped to Cas' bedroom. When he opened the door, he was distracted for a moment. He had never seen it, and, however minimal the decoration was, it was still reflecting him, who he was in his intimacy. And Dean liked it, loved the calm atmosphere created by the wooden plank walls, the colored quilt, the candles on the shelves, but most of all created by the man in the middle, who was smiling at Dean as if he was good news, as if he was happy.

 

"I was changing the sheets for tomorrow. I hope your godfather won't find them too scratchy."

"Oh... No, he wouldn't. But, see... I don't think he'll stay very long, so you shouldn't bother."

Castiel frowned. Dean wanted to touch his forehead and smooth the marks away.

"I didn't know he had called. What has happened?"

"Nothing. It's just that..." Dean gulped. He felt weak, he was weak. He hoped Cas wouldn't notice the tear: " ... I asked him to take me in. It's better that way. You'll be rid of my sorry ass."

 

Castiel took a step back, his wide eyes the only thing Dean could see. There was hurt in them. Horrible parts of Dean were pleased. The kinder ones only wanted things to be over quickly, so he babbled:

"You've been the best. I owe you. I'll pay for whatever you want. Even a car if you want one." Cas winced. That was not the right thing to say. "Or, whatever you want. And I'll come visit if you want, later..." Later, when he would be cured of those feelings, of this pain through the heart. "But we both know I shouldn't stay."

"That's not true. I asked you to come back. I wanted you here." Cas was shouting, like he had when Dean had been shot.

Dean tried to put his hand on Cas' shoulder but it was swept away:

"So, that's what you were planning, behind my back. You found someone more important, I'm no longer needed? That's what it is? Fuck, Dean!" He hated it when Castiel swore. His jacket was crumpled as Cas gripped him and lifted him up. "I protected you, I stayed at your side! Am I that insignificant?" He let Dean slide down in shock. He was panting, his eyes closed. Dean opened his mouth, but Castiel turned and muttered: "No, Dean, don't justify yourself. I've gotten the message. I was mistaken, I thought you were a caring person, but I guess only about your brother."

 

Dean couldn't get up but his rage still showed in his answer:

"Don't you dare say that! Don't you bring Sam in this! Do you think it is easy for me? I came because I thought things would be fine but I just can't anymore..."

Cas was sitting on the bed, his head in his hand, but his question still rang loudly and clearly:

"Why? What have I done?"

Dean couldn't answer. Instead, he crawled to the doorknob and used it to get up. As he closed the door, he heard a small moan that sounded like his name.

 

He wasn't crying. His father would be so proud. He was sitting on the couch, rigid, looking outside. The posture wasn't natural so his neck was hurting but he didn't care. His life felt empty. He barely heard the footsteps or the small clinking noise but he still looked down. There was a pendant on the table. It looked like a head with a spring on top. The necklace itself was a leather cord.

Castiel's words came from the corner, colorless:

"I saw this at the market and I bought it for you. I didn't want to give it to you, just yet, I thought it would make a good birthday present because I naively thought you'd still be there with me. I didn't use your money by the way. It's a real present."

Dean put his hand down, marvelling at the thoughtfulness. He wanted to say thanks but his mouth didn't:

"Why?"

Cas sighed and sat opposite him. He wasn't smiling but his gaze was intense, as if he was saying things silently. Dean wished he could hear them.

After a long minute, Cas said:

"Because you're important. I thought I couldn't make room for anyone in my life and you proved me wrong, or at least I thought so."

He sounded so defeated that suddenly Dean allowed himself the tiniest of hope.

"Cas, you are important. In fact you're ten times better than me. That's why I can't stay because of what I feel for you. I know we..." It was difficult to find the correct term. 'Fuck' sounded too cold: "...we slept together. But it was because we were both hurting, right? And then... when you drove me back the other day..." He looked up, determined. His voice almost didn't waver and he decided to forget his father's principles. The man should want him happy anyway. And even if Dean missed him sometimes, he had to make his own choices:

"I realized that I care about you. Very much."

 

Castiel was still not smiling. He was gaping, while his hand was clasping Dean's so hard that Dean yelped. It seemed to take him out of his stupor:

"You have feelings for me? And that's why you wanted to leave?"

"Yeah..."

"You thought this was just sex for me?"

"Kind of?"

 

Slowly, Castiel got up. He took the necklace in his hand. Dean sighed. It had been too good to be true. Now that Cas was aware of the strength of Dean's feelings, he would let him go.

But then, tender hands were fastening the necklace. When it was done, they stayed there until Dean put his own on them.

There was a whisper:

"I love you, Dean."

And in that moment, Dean's life really began.


	17. At long last

The last light of the day was a bright orange, making Castiel's face shine. Or maybe it was his smile, one Dean had never seen on him before, like a sum of all his other smiles ever.

He was grinning himself, so much so that they couldn't kiss properly, but it didn't matter. Dean was laughing, feeling the waves of astonished happiness wash his chest, taking the grief away.

Cas was grazing his delicate fingers over Dean's skin, wherever he could find it, as if he had been starved of it. Dean stayed still, letting Cas build a cocoon of love and comfort in which he felt safe and content.

 

After a while, he took the lead and started kissing Castiel's neck, only stopping to listen to the chuckles he got in response. He wrapped Cas in his arms, hugging as close as he could, pushed his nose in Cas' sweater and whispered "Love you too" very softly, making Cas' shoulder vibrate. He had no idea if he had heard but that was a first big step for him. The only person he remembered telling this was his mother when he was little. Even Sam had never heard him utter those and, God, had he loved him. And now he would never hear it, he wasn't there anymore.

 

But Cas was there, all warm and a little scratchy at places, giving Dean a new purpose in life. They had slid on the couch, Dean laying on Cas' chest, quietly marveling at Cas' blue eyes.

They didn't move, didn't take each other's clothes off. Dean already knew what was under them and right now, he just wanted to enjoy his new feelings. He felt like a virgin, not in term of sex but of relationship.

Castiel was tranquil, his breath even, only moving imperceptibly to make more room for Dean, until they were so comfortably imbricated that Dean could have slept like that all night long.

Which they did.

 

When Dean opened his eyes, it was to a bright sunny morning. Castiel was still asleep beneath him, even though he was on the verge of falling from the couch. Very gently, Dean got off him and pushed him against the cushions. Cas stirred but didn't wake up yet.

 

Remembering Cas' remark about getting spoiled, he walked to the kitchen and started preparing breakfast. He grabbed his cell on the counter and read the text he had gotten earlier:

'Will be late. Won't have time for small talk. Make sure your bag is packed.'

He pondered whether to text Bobby that the plan had changed or to tell him in person. He chose the latter and started frying eggs.

As he filled the tray, he kept glancing at the couch, checking that Cas was still lying down. Cas, who loved him. It was still hard to believe.

 

The moment he saw him wake up, he knelt next to him with the tray. Castiel raised a sleepy eyebrow, then smiled groggily. Dean felt his heart speed up.

They ate on the table, because the couch was way too impractical, but Dean still had one of Castiel's legs on his lap.

There was silence and gazes and times ahead. There was no hurry, at least until Dean realized that Bobby would be there soon and they should change their clothes. Castiel winked and brought Dean to his room to watch him as he stripped down slowly. Dean sat on the bed, savoring the view:

"You'll have to do that the same way tonight. I kind of dig it."

Cas grinned and blushed:

"You'll have to ask really nicely, then."

"Oh, I plan to..."

They stop talking, their breathing fast, staring at each other.

Then Castiel put on a pair of jeans and sighed:

"We'd better hurry though. I wouldn't want to greet your godfather in my boxers. I would rather he appreciates me."

"He will. You saved my life, after all." Dean just hoped that Bobby would be okay with the idea of the two of them together. There were so few people in his life, he wanted to make sure none of them rejected him.

 

He hobbled outside the barge, one hand on Castiel's arm, looking down to make sure he wouldn't slip in the waters. He remembered with a shudder how cold they had been, how unmerciful.

Bobby was getting out of a pickup parked near the road a few hundred feet away, a baseball cap planted on his head, just like Dean had seen him the last time, before the fight with John, before they lost contact. He had a grey beard now and lines everywhere, but his eyes still shined with emotions that he would never owned to:

"What's with the limping, boy? You need to be babied?"

Dean smiled:

"The wound reopened, so yeah, I'm taking it easy, old man. And Cas is a great nurse."

Bobby was shaking his head with a smirk:

"Well, yeah, you'd better be careful. Do you know how expensive hospital bills are?" He looked at Cas and held out his hand: "Thanks for helping him. We all owe you."

Castiel shook his hand, face a little blank. Dean recognized it as a 'I'm being prudent as I don't know you' one. He was about to praise Cas again when he was whisked into a hug.

"Don't be a stranger, kid. I almost never see you again, so no dying on me, you get it?"

"Sure, Bobby. How did you hear about all that, anyway?"

"The news, boy. You guys were all over it. Well, the local ones."

Castiel was frowning:

"I do not understand. Dean says you live in another state, so why would you watch the news from here?"

Bobby turned back to the road and nodded slightly:

"Actually, I got an anonymous mail telling me about it. I asked who they were but they needed proof that I was... well me. That's how I got your number and when he learned I was coming to pick you up, he asked me to give him a lift."

"He...?"

 

The pickup door was opening. A very long leg came out of it, followed by long messy hair. Dean couldn't breathe. Was he hallucinating? Was he still in the hospital, dreaming it all?

They stood face to face, both frozen. Sammy had an apologetic look which made no sense. Maybe he was a ghost?

 

But when his brother ran to him and held him so tight that he almost fell in the river, he knew it was real. Sam was there.

They were both crying, covering their sweaters with snot, while Cas was looking at them uncomprehending. Dean gave him a wobbly smile and stuttered:

"That's... That's Sammy... My brother..."

Castiel grinned and took one of Dean's hands in his, anchoring him:

"Oh! How wonderful. I'm very glad to meet you Sam and also I'm delighted to see you are not dead."


	18. Too many changes

_Castiel looked at Bobby drinking his beer. The man looked like he was perpetually frowning and always had something to be angry about. He briefly wondered what the man's life story was. Maybe he had lost someone close too..._

_Dean's face had lightened up on seeing him, even before he mentioned Sam. Why had Bobby been out of his life, when it was clear he was like a father to him and Sam? It was Dean's story to tell, so he didn't ask._

_He had the feeling that, however grateful the old man was, he was still evaluating him, wanting to know what wood Castiel was made of. His gaze was patient, shrewd. Castiel was patient too. He waited, busying himself in the kitchen, preparing more food now that there was an extra guest. At the idea of who Dean was talking to (he had retreated in his bedroom after a brief look in Cas' direction, to which he had answered with a nod), his heart was bursting. Dean was given a second chance, more so, he was getting surrounded with people who loved him, when he had no one for a while._

_Castiel envied him, but just a little. He had someone who cared for him after all, someone giving and strong and beautiful._

 

Dean couldn't help hugging his brother a second time. Sam was there, he felt like Sam, he smelled like Sam. It was too much seeing him there when he had buried him in his heart.

"So, Sammy what happened? Where were you?"

Sam smiled and sat his big frame on the mattress. It creaked.

"I was hiding, Dean, just like you. "

"But... I thought... I really thought... I wouldn't have left you if I had known you were still breathing, I swear. Everything went so fast..."

 

His voice was breaking into a whisper and it made him mad. Sam needed to know, had to forgive him.

"Dean, look at me." Sam's hand was steady on his shoulder and his eyes were soft. Dean relaxed a little.

"Sam..."

"Shhh, Dean, it's okay, really. I never thought you had abandoned me. If you had stayed, Crowley's men would have killed you, or the feds would have arrested you. I don't remember much, anyway. When I got down from my fever I was in a cabin, far from Crowley's."

"Who were you with?"

Sam looked embarrassed for the first time that day. He sighed and murmured:

"Ruby."

" _What_?" He shouldn't have shouted, he knew. But a thief? Dean could still picture the disdain in her eyes as she watched him in the warehouse.

"She saved me, Dean! She may be a crook but she's not Crowley. And it's not as if I could decide anything, remember, I had been shot."

"Yes, sorry..." Dean rubbed his forehead, his brain bubbling with questions.

"Listen, I'll tell you everything on the way back. We'd better hurry. Bobby has changed, man. He can't stay away from his wife too long, apparently."

 

Dean caught his brother's arm before he could open the door:

"Wait! There's been.. I can't..."

He was stuttering, not knowing if he should change his mind, or what he was going to reveal.

"What do you mean? We've just found each other again and you don't want to come with me?"

"No, Sam that's not it. There have been... developments."

He sat against the cushion, careful to place his leg in a comfortable manner. Sam's gaze lingered on the bandages, his eyes hard and shifting. Dean took the plunge:

"You've met Castiel. He helped me, that's true, but... We spent so much time together, things just... happened. And I still dig chicks. And Cas."

He barely made sense but it didn't matter. Sammy knew him like the back of his hand. He looked surprised but not pissed, which was good.

"Oh." Sam chuckled and added, his fingers caressing the bed covers : "Believe me, I know what you mean. Kind of... did the same?"

It was Dean's turn to be shocked. And _he_ was mad:

" _Are you fucking insane?_ "

Sam's face was like stone. Dean guessed he mirrored the expression.

"What, Dean? You just told me you slept with your savior. So did I. Is there a double standard that says little brothers aren't allowed to find comfort where they can? Can you imagine what I went through, cut off from the whole world?"

" Of course, I can, but I was single, Sam. You aren't."

Sam looked hurt and guilty. Dean didn't care one bit. Things were too messed up.

"Well, of course, you could say I cheated on Jess, but it's not as if I could break up with her. Couldn't make her an accessory. I was on the run, I would never had dragged her down with me. Ruby's... tougher."

Dean closed his eyes, picturing Jess crying on the hospital chair. He took a moment to compose himself, then barked:

"Jess is ten times the woman Ruby is and you know it Sam."

Sam's mouth was pursed. He shook his head, his stupid long hair flapping around:

"Jess is better without me. I can't offer her a stable life, one without danger. She'll be fine, you'll see."

 

Dean opened his mouth to shut his brother down with the piece of news, when they both heard:

"When you two have finished your chick-flick moment, we need to hit the road!"

Figuring telling Bobby was more urgent, he opened the door and started walking to the living-room but he was stopped by Castiel:

"Dean." He whispered urgently.

Dean had an idea of what was bothering him. He caught Cas' elbow and whispered back:

"I'm gonna tell him, Cas. Don't worry, I don't think he'll freak out. Bobby sounds rough but he's good people."

"I'm aware, Dean. But maybe you should reconsider going with him. I'm not going anywhere and you have much bonding to do."

Dean chocked on air in his outrage:

" _Excuse-me_? There is no way you're throwing me out. I need to bond with _you_. Sam is a jackass, anyway."

 

Bobby had joined them and must have heard Dean's reply:

"Something you want to tell me, boy?"

"Yeah, Bobby. Cas and I are together. I thought it wouldn't work out and that's why I asked you... But I still want to spend time with you and meet your wife, though. Do you think she could come?"

Bobby shook his head:

"She's running a bar, no time for travellin'. I guess I can stay another day, though. I'll sleep on this couch."

"Or you can sleep in my room. I sleep in Dean's all the time." Cas sounded so polite, Dean almost laugh out loud. Bobby closed his eyes with a grossed out expression:

"That's a level of details I didn't need to know. But sure. What about Sam?"

 

Sam's voice behind them startled Dean. It sounded tired:

"I think, I'll leave. Sounds like my brother thinks I make all the wrong decisions. I'll call a cab."

Dean sighed. Cas looked completely lost.

"Get off your high horse, bitch. I need to tell you something and for that, I think we should all get a freaking drink."

 


	19. Strong as a rock

Even with a beer in his hand, Sam seemed tensed and ready to leave.

Dean felt his chest constrict. This wasn't the picture he had in mind when he had wished his brother back from the dead. He wanted him not only alive but also happy and smiling.

Maybe Castiel was right and he should spend time with his brother, correct his mistakes, make sure his life was perfect...

His arm was brushed by the soft fabric of Cas' shirt. His chest expanded and he felt his heartbeat lowering. He turned to his boyfriend with a tentative smile. Cas wasn't smiling back but his stare was so focused Dean felt the only person in the whole world. So, no, he wouldn't change his mind. Cas was important as Sam.

 

He took a deep breath and started cautiously:

"So Sam, you know I was in the hospital, right?"

Sam sighed:

"Yes, Dean, I do. That's how I tracked you down actually."

"Right. Anyhow, when Cas came to take me home..." he paused. The word had come naturally, as if his apartment didn't exist anymore. Sam had a little smirk as if he had noticed too. Dean shook his head and went on: "...I met Jess. I don't know why she was at this hospital and not in Lawrence..."

"Her parents live in this state."

"Oh, all right. I had to tell her... about you... She didn't take it well."

Not a muscle was moving in his brother's face. Dean was beginning to hate him. The words got out on their own:

"It was even worse because she's pregnant."

 

Sam wasn't impassive now. He looked like a scared child, exactly like Dean had seen him when they were young.

Dean couldn't make any sense of his feelings now, it was a big ball of mess that made him want to puke and drink a lot more.

"Is it...? Did she say...?"

"Yes." He had been about to make Sam stew a little, but found out he couldn't "It's yours. I'm gonna be an uncle."

 

Sam had his face in his big hands, his hair covering them. Dean took a sip and looked at Bobby. He had his eyes closed and the perpetual frown on his face was gone. To Dean it said a lot.

There was a long silence, broken only by the sound of the water on the edge of the barge and the creaking of the wood. Cas put his hand around his shoulder, like a big protective wing and tilted his head against Dean's.

 

Finally Sam's face emerged, streaked with tears that he didn't bother wiping out. There was only one word that could sum up what was going on at that moment and Sammy delivered it in a defeated tone:

"Fuck."

 

They finally moved to the table, after Castiel urged them to eat before things went cold. Dean sat opposite Sam, feeling like a failure. Cas put a dish on the table and said gravely

"Babies are a blessing."

Dean looked at him in disbelief. He opened his mouth to tell him off but Cas looked directly into his eyes. He was calm, confident, his head up high.

Sam whispered quietly:

"I know. Thanks."

"It is frightening at first but I assure you it is worth it."

His voice wasn't even cracking. Dean grabbed his hand and pressed it.

Of course Castiel wouldn't care if he was out of line. He had been through so much as a father, and he still thought it was a positive thing. Dean felt his heart grow a little larger, as if making room for more love.

Sam had a tentative little smile on, now:

"I'll call her right after lunch. I'm sorry, Dean."

He wondered what Sam was sorry about. He had already forgiven him everything.

 

Bobby was napping in Cas' room and Sam was outside on the phone so Dean and Cas had retreated to the bedroom. They were lying side to side, quietly kissing, not letting their hands roam too much. The lust made Dean's skin shiver but the boat was too crowded for anything. Now that his relationship had really started, he didn't want something quick and guilty.

Cas wasn't pushing. His eyes were a little glassy and Dean guessed it had to do with the meal's conversation. None of them brought it up, Cas had already opened up about it enough and Dean didn't want him to hurt when they could just enjoy being together. Cas' presence filled him, like a warm tide.

 

Cas had to go check on his beehive, so they finally left the bed. Dean sat on the couch, a book in hand (one that Cas said he should read) and waited.

 

Sam looked different. He had intent. Dean closed his eyes and sighed of relief. He could understand that Sam would look for comfort in hardship but he well damn hoped that he would do the right thing. He had been his brother's main mentor so he had to have done his job right.

"She wants to meet tonight. I'll ask Bobby if I can borrow his car."

"Okay."

The strong determination on Sam's face cracked a little as he added:

"She was crying on the phone. Of joy."

"Yeah, I know the feeling."

He met Sam's eyes. There was a short silent conversation, filled with words they'd never manage to say.

Then Sam smirked:

"So, where's the Impala? How can you survive without cars around?"

"Hey, I resent that." He gestured around : "This may be slower than an automobile but it's still transportation. I was thinking of asking Cas if I can look at the engine. Must be interesting."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Oh, sorry, little nerd, not intellectual enough for you?"

Sam shook his head.

"Cas rented a car to come pick me up at the hospital but that's it. He.... Something happened to him and it was really... He doesn't like those anymore."

 

Sam looked curious but Dean didn't elaborate. It wasn't his story to tell. He realized what an effort it had been for Cas to drive again after all this time. He could have told Dean to take a cab.

He should thank him but maybe Cas wouldn't like talking about that. It also reminded him of his own lonely car.

"The Impala's back in Lawrence. The feds told me it had been sent to a garage next to my place so I can pick it up when I can."

"So, why don't you?"

Dean looked down at his leg. Sometimes he forgot about it, if things got too intense.

"Can't drive yet. Doctor's orders and all that crap."

There was a pause, then Sam murmured:

"You've changed, Dean."

Dean frowned. Where was that coming from?

"Are you putting me down?"

"What? No! It's just that I feel that you've... matured or something? It's weird to say about my big brother but you were more carefree before. We've been hurt on the job before and you never cared about what doctors said."

 

Dean heard the feet on the gravel and said:

"Well I'm not on my own anymore. Cas will want me healthy."

Sam grinned:

"Okay, nice. I'm glad you found him. Now I have to take care of my love life. Wish me luck."

Dean rolled his eyes:

"If you come late, just crash on the couch and don't you wake us up."

"Thanks Dean."

 


	20. Shy happiness

Castiel had come back with a quiche he had been given at the farm, along with some apples. Dean decided they would have pie as well, even when Cas objected it would be too much crust.

Bobby sat on the couch with a book, while Castiel helped Dean around the kitchen.

 

Dinner was a quiet affair. Bobby asked Castiel about the barge, nodding when his technical curiosity was satisfied. Dean focused on the food, taking in Cas' deep rumbling voice, feeling safe and happy.

 

Later, Cas called him from his bedroom. He found him sprayed on the covers, eyes closed.

"You're beat?"

Cas tried to answer but he yawned instead. Dean chuckled.

"I don't think I'm up to it, Dean. I've been desiring you all day long, but I just can't move anymore."

Dean sat next to him and brushed the muscle of his inner arm.

"It's all right. We're in no hurry. Plus, Bobby is around and I don't know if we're quiet when we fuck."

Castiel managed to open his eyes and smiled:

"Quite the romantic wording. I have no idea either. I tend to get lost in the moment."

"Same. Why don't you slip under the cover. I can give you a shoulder massage of you want."

Cas let out a happy sigh and crawled on the bed.

 

Dean didn't feel tired. He joined Bobby on the deck, careful not to slip in the dark. His godfather was holding a beer bottle, seated very still. Dean tapped his shoulder and whispered:

"You brooding?"

Bobby shrugged, not even turning his head.

" 'm not used to the quiet."

"Oh, yeah..." Dean sat, stretching his leg. It was getting better much faster this time. Going to the hospital did make a difference. "I'm used to it, now. Everything's slow in here."

Bobby grunted a reply.

"What?"

"I said... Letting you idjits lovebirds have the boat to yourselves too. So why don't hop your way down again and go spend time with Cas."

Dean laughed out loud. He felt his lungs fill with cold pure air, his chest shivering with fresh life.

"Nope. Cas's already asleep anyway. You and I haven't really caught up. I mean, do you still work with cars?"

 

The conversation flowed, mostly centered around his job, but sometimes, Dean would get a nugget of personal information, like the fact that Bobby had bought a house that he had turned into a junkyard and he lived there with Ellen and her daughter, Jo.

"You'll like, her. She's a fighter."

"I can't wait to meet them. This Jo is lucky to have you as a dad."

This was met with silence, which was an answer to the both of them. Dean wanted to add that to him Bobby was a father too, but instead he lay on the wood and looked at the stars above.

 

"Dean?"

"Up here, Cas!" He saw his boyfriend's face looking up at them, looking even more tired than earlier. Dean patted Bobby's elbow and left the deck.

"Why aren't you sleeping, Cas?"

"I woke up and... you weren't there. I wasn't thinking straight. Was frightened..."

Dean's felt his heart clench. Castiel had never shown fear. He got mad sometimes, or sad and it was already difficult to witness, but knowing that he was that important to him was still new and terrifying.

He kissed him softly and led him to the bedroom.

"I'm fine, Cas. As long as I'm with you, I'll always be."

"Love you..."

 

The moment Cas touched the mattress, he fell asleep again. Dean lay next to him, thinking about his father, how he had struggled to raise them. Would Sam manage?

He heard Bobby walking past their door to Cas' cabin.

Later, he woke up to the sound of someone scratching on the barge's door. He wondered sleepily if Bobby had locked it and forgotten about Sam. He pushed Castiel's warm tempting body aside carefully. He didn't want him to be frightened for nothing again.

 

When he opened the door, Sam wasn't there but a figure was walking away. Dean grumbled about the cold but reached the bank, strode to the road and whispered:

"Sammy..."

The figure stopped. Dean tried to squint his eyes. Something wasn't right. Sam was freaking tall and here...

 

His legs caught up before his brain. He tried running, but fell in the grass. The knife's blade felt like ice on his neck:

"Guess again."

It was Crowley's voice.

 


	21. The heart of a man

The grass was a little wet and slippery. Dean wished it wasn't. He wanted rocks to hold on to, so he could resist Crowley hurling him up and pushing him in a car, the metal of handcuffs circling his wrist with a definite icy click.

 

He remembered, he could feel it again, the sense of dread he had felt when Sam had been shot, when they were outnumbered and on the wrong side of the law.

And then, there had been Castiel, strong and trained, who had protected him and gave him back the world.

And now the world was gone again, Dean was weak, vulnerable without Cas, at the mercy of a pathetic creep who wouldn't give up.

Even his laugh was cold:

"So, little squirrel, you're done running away from me? You really are the lesser one of the pair, aren't you? If it wasn't for your brother, I'd still be a respected citizen." In his anger, he punched the steering wheel. The car lurched, almost leaving the road. Sadly, it didn't. Dean wanted the nightmare to end, no matter how. The thought of Cas waking up afraid for him a second time, looking for him everywhere, was twisting his gut.

 

He didn't give Crowley the satisfaction of seeing him cry but it was a struggle.

"Oh, don't worry, Dean, I won't kill you right away. You're useful. The feds won't risk hurting you and have your whiny babysitter be all upset."

Something in Dean snapped. he moved his legs around, kicking the back of the driver's seat. This time, the car did leave the road and bumped into a bush.

He heard the car door open and Crowley scream.

"God, damn it! You fool, this was the easy way. Now you really won't like what I'll have to do."

He yanked the back door open and dragged Dean out. Fortunately, it was the good leg that hit the floor. He pushed hard and thrust himself up, aiming at Crowley's chin. There was the clang of a gun falling on the asphalt and the knife was still on the seat inside the car. Now was the moment to take control. With both hands and arms tied up he was still limited in his range but Crowley was making it easy, trying to fight Dean as they lay on the floor instead of looking for his weapons.

 

And just like that, the memory went away, replaced by the sense of playfulness and alertness that had made Dean so good at his job. Sammy was fine, Castiel was fine and here was a cockroach Dean simply had to crush.

He used everything, his elbows, his knees, the random branch he could thrust Crowley against.

"You... pathetic... little..." The voice was strained with the effort of fighting, losing its power to humiliate. With no idea of what to do apart from not letting him win, Dean went on, careful with his leg if he could be.

 

Crowley grabbed his hair and pulled. Dean grunted but kept pushing in the dark. In fact, it was starry enough that he could see the moment the other changed position and secured him in a tight embrace.

"Now, stop this ridiculous attitude Dean. I have much to do and you're slowing me down..."

"Good!" Dean wanted to shout it, but there was blood in his mouth. He sputtered : "Asshole..." and started coughing.

In a desperate attempt, he bumped his cranium against Crowley's. The noise it made was horrifying but it was effective. Both men stopped moving and when Dean came by, he managed to wriggle himself free from the limp body of his opponent.

 

Now what?

 

He didn't have his cell with him, of course, he was still in his night clothes. Looking down at his legs, he noticed the goosebumps and idly wondered if they came from the cold, the adrenaline or the pain.

 

Something vibrated next to his feet. Crowley's cell. Dean rolled on his stomach and crawled to it, then twisted for a while until he could hold it from behind.

Of course, he didn't know anyone's phone number, even Sammy's. He closed his eyes, exhaled loudly and focused his mind on the reversed dial pad. 9-1-1.

 

Then, he crawled again, scratching his clothes on the road, putting as many feet as he could between him and the car. The person answering the call sounded distorted but he managed to explain where he was, sort of.

The fishing rope that Crowley had tied around his legs finally broke, enough for him to stand up and try to walk. He was not gone far when he heard Crowley waking up and groan. Fuck, he was going to have to hide.

 

A blinding light caught him by surprise and he heard breaks and the sound of tires screeching. Whoever it was, it couldn't be the police, they couldn't arrive that fast. But Dean had given all he could and if one of Crowley's men was coming to get him, there was nothing he could do.

 

Strong arms encircled him as well as a soft smell he recognized instantly, he whispered: "Cas..."

 

His knees were giving up and he felt himself slowly slipping down. Cas put his hands under his butt and pushed him back up, all while kissing his neck, tears wetting Dean's shoulder.

"You left..."

" 'm sorry Cas, I thought it was Sam."

"Your brother sent a text on your phone. He's spending the night with Jess and says not to worry."

Dean's head snapped up:

"Did you tell him I was missing?"

Cas shook his head, then took a step back and raised his gun. Dean turned just in time to see Crowley stand up and walk to the road.

One second later, Castiel was next to him, gun against his temple. Crowley's arms were up and he was shaking at something Cas was saying.

 

They waited like that, Dean sat in the car Castiel had borrowed from his farmer friend, and Cas making sure Crowley didn't move a muscle. With the light of dawn, Dean could meet his boyfriend's stare, which was all he needed.

Well, that and a shower, and pain killers.

 

The police was on the phone with the feds, so the officers barely acknowledged them, only to ask if they needed an ambulance. Cas pocketed his gun and kissed Dean, ready to drive back, when he was asked to come answer the phone. Dean listened at the curt answers, smirking when he heard him say:

"Hmm... no... no medals necessary, I assure you... no... Good-bye!"

He hung up with an angry sigh and handed back the phone, which started ringing again. The officer waved them away.

 

The barge wasn't that far. Dean was happy he had reacted soon enough for Cas to find him.

He felt strong and horribly tired.

 

Bobby was coming out of his room, looking sleepy and grumbled:

"Where did you guys sneak off to?"

Dean turned to Cas:

"Really, you didn't tell him?"

"It would have taken too long. I think I should buy a car."

Dean sat on the couch, winced and closed his eyes:

"Have I told you about my Baby already?"

 


	22. The New Life

Bobby was really angry he hadn't been told that Dean was missing. So was Sam on the phone and later in person. But both hugged Dean really hard and he could swear he saw tears.

 

It was strange how in control he felt now, freed from the insane fears, almost like his ancient self. He knew his limits now, though, and he owed Cas to be more prudent and stay alive.

He also wanted Sam to settle down, stop running after thieves, and not just for the baby or Jess.

 

Castiel's hand was never far from him during the day. On his lap, behind the chair on his shoulder, or, mostly, around Dean's own. He reveled in it, enjoying the contact, not feeling comfortable at the idea of kissing Cas in front of his godfather and his brother. He didn't think they would mind but he would feel too vulnerable. Right now, he wanted to feel manly, strong and victorious.

 

* * *

 

He managed to persuade Cas to take the table outside and eat on solid ground. They had to unscrew it but the result was awesome. Sam had brought some fish and prepared it with Dean. They bumped into each other in the small space but he didn't mind. He had a feeling this was a turning point, the moment for them to let the other live his life to the fullest. He just hoped they wouldn't be too far away.

 

Instead of candles, Bobby had found an oil lamp and put it in the center of the table. Cas frowned at it and asked:

"May I ask where you found this? I don't remember buying one."

"Oh, it was with all the junk in the spare room."

Dean perked up. This was interesting:

"There's a spare room? Why did you hide that from me, Cas?"

"I didn't. When I purchased the barge, I was only shown the rooms we are using. I am aware that there is unused space, though. I just had no idea you could access it."

Bobby shrugged:

"I'll show you. There's a ladder that you can slide down in one of the cupboards. It's a pity I can't stay longer, I wouldn't mind some handy work."

Dean smiled. He could barely see Bobby's eyes in the semi-dark but he knew him well enough to know they were full of excitement. He would miss him too.

"Well, I hope you've got a spare room for when Cas and I come visit you. If you don't, you'd better start on it."

"Yep, and you'll need a big one because babies need lot of space and we won't come without him... or her."

Sam's tone was light and happy. He hadn't told Dean much about Jess and him but it seemed they were back together. They would certainly need space. He wasn't about to welcome a niece or a nephew in the tight cabin he was sleeping in. He hoped Cas wouldn't feel too invaded by all of this. He couldn't wait to get started on making the barge their home. His apartment would sell well, he was sure.

 

All this future, these possibilities were a wonder but very tiring. Dean didn't realise he was nodding until he felt a kiss on his temple and a finger keeping his chin from landing in his plate. Cas took him inside, letting Bobby and Sam take care of the table despite his protestations.

He sat on the couch, watching Cas fill the stove, bent in half in a way that made Dean's heart beat faster. He didn't feel like sleeping after all. At least not alone.

 

* * *

 

They said their goodbyes. Bobby was taking Sam back to his place and then driving all night. Dean asked for a text telling them he had made it fine:

"Cause you know how to send one, right? You're up to date with technology?"

"Watch your tone, boy. You may be limping but I can still whack your head."

"Yeah, yeah... be safe, all right and tell Ellen I can't wait to meet her."

 

He didn't say much to Sam. he didn't want to risk starting another fight. Right now they were good and he was sure his brother would call often, he was a sap like that.

Castiel was more talkative, telling Sam he could come whenever:

"You're the most important person in Dean's life. I would like to get to know you."

Sam smiled and shook his head:

"I'm not sure I'm the first one in his heart nowadays, but thanks, I'll definitely come back and not just on my own... Do you think being pregnant makes you seasick?"

"I do not think so. Do you want me to look it up?"

 

* * *

 

Then finally, they were alone. The barge was completely silent, like it used to be. Dean realized he had missed it. He stopped in the narrow hallway, wondering which cabin to go in. Castiel came behind him and opened Dean's door. Well, it made sense, even if the bed was smaller. It was theirs already.

 

Cas was very patient, barely touching Dean with his lips, making sure his leg was well positioned as he let his hand wander under his shirt. Dean was shivering. The moment was so important. There was nothing to hide, no pain to quench. He let himself lay still, allowing full access to his body. He wanted to feel loved.

 

Layers after layers, and Dean still wasn't naked. Each time he removed a piece of clothing, Cas caressed him, through the fabric, as if he couldn't stand the lack of physical connection, even for a second. When it was his time to strip down, though, he worked faster, shaking everything off like an overeager puppy.

He lay next to Dean and whispered:

"I love you."

"I know. Now prove it."

They both chuckled. It was so different than their past sex. There was no hurry, even if Dean was dying from the anticipation.

 

Cas prepared him, mumbling. He seemed to always want to talk now.

"Thank you Dean, thank you for being mine."

Dean's heart felt larger. He was biting his lips not to cry. Even when Castiel pushed inside him, he could feel the tenderness. He was so full of all this, that he grabbed Castiel's arms, and ass and back, squeezing and stroking endlessly. They were gazing in each other's eyes, as Dean avidly read every small change in the blue stare, aware that Cas could see deep into his own soul too, and accepting it.

 

Near the end, Castiel changed rhythm, gaining speed and strength. Dean let out long moans, relieved in the knowledge that no one else could hear him. He even let go a 'Love you' that brought a smile on Castiel's face. He came right after. Cas finished, then grabbed his shirt from the floor to clean them.

They fell asleep still naked, which was why Dean woke up early, trembling from the cold. He thought about restarting the stove but chose instead to lodge himself closer into Cas' sleeping embrace.


	23. Emerging from the clouds

They stayed in bed for the majority of the next day.

Around noon, Dean hopped to the kitchen to fix sandwiches, and looked at the banks, reflecting that it was time for them to change port. When he told Cas about than and the fact that he really wanted to learn how to drive the barge, he was met with a pout, then coaxed into lying down again. He grumbled a little and Cas laughed.

 

It was difficult for him to be pragmatic or even serious when Cas was laughing so much, all the time. Each time he heard his voice, he felt grateful that Castiel was given a second chance at happiness. He just hoped he would be up to the task of keeping him that way.

 

There wasn't as much sex as he would have expected. There was a lot of bonding, dreaming, feeling each other's skin. Among the sheets, bright white in the daylight, then grayer as the sun got down, Dean was discovering how extraordinary being in love could be and it was addicting. Reality could wait another night.

 

The barge finally moved, while Dean didn't. He had a fever and kept throwing up. Cas called a doctor who met them at the next landing. She sat next to him and spoke softly but firmly. In the end, he had to tell the whole abduction story so that she could diagnose a delayed response to trauma rather than his leg acting up:

"Basically, your brain is overwhelmed by what happened. you need to be peaceful and take it as easy as possible. I'll give you a prescription but it won't work if you don't follow that advice."

"I'm living on this boat with no neighbors, no TV, and a boyfriend who's as quiet as a mouse. How could I not follow it?"

The woman gave him a stern look, with just the start of a smirk:

"There's one thing I can think of that involves your boyfriend. Sorry about that but you need absolute rest."

"I'm starting not liking you, Doc."

"Goes with the job..."

 

She must have talked to Castiel because from then on, they slept in separate rooms. In fact, he was back to his regular activities and beekeeping jobs, but when he had finished his chores, he took a book and sat next to Dean, even reading aloud to him sometimes. Dean listened in a daze, only hearing half of it but the deep tone was soothing. One evening, he said:

"I'm sorry for being such a bother. You don't have to spend all your free time here you know."

Cas put the book on the bed and took Dean's hand in his. It made his heart beat faster.

"I like being with you Dean, at all times. I wish I could do more, I hate seeing you unwell."

Dean laughed for a second, but even that was exhausting.

"I have been unwell since we met, Cas. Believe it or not, there was a time when I could run."

"You miss it? Being healthy and carefree?"

There was no anxiety in Cas' voice. It just sounded deadly serious, like most of his questions. Dean pondered for a while:

"I don't miss the single life. I wouldn't trade you for anything. But, yes, I'm getting impatient. I'm not as used to the quiet as you are, I guess."

Cas hung his head silently. Dean bit his lip. He had forgotten. He could blame it on being sick but it didn't help one bit. Castiel was taking care of him and he was being a dick. He felt too tired to make amends, so he turned on the mattress and talked to the wall:

"It's late, you should go to sleep."

He barely heard the door close but he dreamt of it the whole night. Another nightmare on top of the others, the ones he didn't tell Cas about, where Crowley turned into an enormous dog or even a demon and sliced Cas' or Sam's throat in front of him.

 

Cas knocked at the door with his free hand, while the other held the breakfast tray.

"Hello, Dean. I hope you slept well."

Dean's lifted his face, which must have been answer in itself, because Cas frowned. He put the tray at the foot of the bed and took Dean's hand gently.

"Do you want me to call the doctor again?"

"No..."

Dean searched Castiel's eyes for hurt or anger but they were limpid. Should he apologize now and make him feel bad again? Or pretend nothing happened?

He was tempted, but with time his moral strength had returned and he didn't want to be a coward:

"I'm sorry about yesterday."

Cas smiled sadly. Dean's heart crumbled at the top. He put a trembling hand on Cas' shoulder. Cas caught it and sighed:

"It'll never be easy, Dean, thinking about her. And I won't forget. But I don't want you walking on eggshells all the time and second guessing yourself..."

Dean wanted to wipe Cas' tears away before they fell but he also didn't want to interrupt him. He opened up even less often than Dean and each time it was important. In fact, it felt like the most important thing in the world.

"... You make me so happy, Dean. The whole of you, even the you that grumbles or the you that says the wrong things. If you were to cross a line, someday, I'll be sure to tell you. But I don't want you to dwell on my feelings when you should be peaceful. You need to heal, Dean. I need you," he pressed Dean's hand so hard it hurt his bones, but Dean stayed silent "I need you to be healthy and happy. With me. How can I make you happy if you are always worried about me?"

 

This time it was Dean who hugged too tight. Cas was in his arm, crying softly. When they let go, he added:

"I am ready to live again, Dean, to the fullest. I don't know what you want to do, where you want us to live, but I'll follow you anywhere. I don't want to be alone with my memories anymore."

"But... does this mean you want to leave the barge? Because I like it here. I've got projects to make it better and all..."

"Really...?"

Cas sounded like a little boy. Dean loved and hated it at the same time.

"Yes. I feel sorry for my clients. They'll never get their art pieces back now, I mean... me and Sammy, we were the best..."

The answer was only a chuckle but it was enough. They kissed a little. Dean stopped when his lids closed against his will, reminding him that he had barely slept.

 

The breakfast tray almost fell when they both woke up. Castiel was cuddled against Dean, gazing at him:

"Looks like we both needed the rest."

Dean felt refreshed. He couldn't remember what he had dreamt about but it hadn't been a nightmare.

He began counting the days until he got his stamina back.


	24. Love remains

“Cas, come look! There's a door!”

There was the sound of dishes clanging with cutlery from the kitchen, then Cas grumbling loudly:

“I'm busy, Dean, this can wait.”

 

Dean left the cramped room and jogged through the barge's length.

He was running all the time now, more than necessary and he enjoyed it every time. He also randomly lifted Cas, carrying him for a few steps, until Cas complained too much.

 

But the best part of his recovery (all right, the _second_ best part), was that he could fix stuff around the barge and feel immensely helpful.

He also cooked and cleaned, of course, even more so now when they had guests around, at least twice a week. Cas complained sometimes but Dean insisted.

“Come on, Cas, Charlie is cool! You spent the last evening laughing with her.”

“That was because of the cootie catcher.”

“And you still won't tell me what was written on it.”

“No.”

“So, should I tell her not to come on Saturday?”

Castiel sighed:

“I've forgotten how to be social, Dean.”

“You're doing just fine,” Dean kissed him, then took his hands, “If you ask me to cancel her or Gabe or anyone else, I'll do it. Even it it's Benny, you know that.”

Benny was Dean's new coworker. They carpooled whenever the barge left their main port, where the Impala was parked. Dean wanted to rent a garage but Cas' farmers friends had insisted he leave her in their old barn. They were also invited once in a while.

 

“Deeeean...”

“Come on, Cas, it's exciting. I mean, there could be an extra room behind.”

There was. Why someone had put some shelves to hide the entrance, he had no idea. Once they managed to scrape the rust away, the door opened with a creak. There was a very musty smell, but other than that it looked fine.

Dean was jumping around, describing it in detail to Castiel, even though Cas was standing next to him, a little smile on his face. There was a lot to do.

“Imagine, with a crib and some pastel paint. I'm sure Jess would be happy to let Allison sleep in here.”

“There is a lot of work to be done yet. And now that you're working...”

“Bobby's coming, remember? In fact, it's a really good thing I found that room, 'cause we'll have to keep him occupied.”

“What about his partner?”

“From what I heard, Ellen likes hard work too. And if she doesn't, you'll keep her company.”

“All right.”

 

Cas was full on smiling now. Dean felt his chest hurt, or maybe he was breathing in too strong. It was so strange how long you could feel madly attracted to the same person, he reflected.

 

“You look happy. I like that very much,” Cas went on. He was walking to the window, frowning as he looked at it, “I do not understand how I missed it. It is quite dirty.”

Before Dean could stop him, he was brushing the glass with his elbow.

“Cas, don't! You'll ruin your trench coat.”

“Oh.”

 

Dean was back in the living-room, making a list of what to buy or borrow from work.

He had to sit at the table, the couch was covered with books. There was still no television set as, after a long discussion, Castiel had explained that he didn't care for the violence it would bring in his home. Dean had immediately stopped and made without, catching up on a show or two at work, on his breaks.

A few weeks later, Castiel had turned up with an old broken radio set for Dean to fix and place in the kitchen. When they felt equal to it, they listened to the news, but mostly it provided a nice musical boost for whoever was preparing the meals.

 

He felt a nose tickle his neck, then a kiss.

“You are tiring me, Dean.”

“And you're distracting me.”

“Yes. I wish to go to bed.”

“Not now, honeybee, I have to go and take some measurements.”

“There is no rush.”

Dean caved. No matter what happened else in his life, Castiel always came first.

 

* * *

 

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

Castiel stretched over his chest like a lazy cat. Dean stroke the dark hair gently, his whole body relaxed and content.

“You love your niece very much.”

“Yeah.” He chuckled at the statement. The way Cas' mind worked was fascinating. He didn't think he'd understand him completely and he like that a lot.

 

“Do you regret it?”

“What?” He turned to look at Castiel who was opening two gigantic troubled eyes.

“We won't have children together.”

Dean opened his mouth, closed it and considered his answer. He was getting better at this and Cas was getting better at communicating.

They had never discussed having children and he was about to say that they could always adopt, but of course, this was silly. Castiel was the only one who could decide if he could ever have another child and it seemed he knew his mind but feared Dean's response. He thought some more. He didn't know exactly how to feel about that, but he had made his mind on something else, so it was an answer anyway:

“I like kids, that's true, but I can live without one of my own. I'd be terrified of becoming like my dad, I guess, so it would be a mess.”

“You wouldn't.”

“Yeah, you're right, but seriously, it's fine. Sam and Jess look like they love being parents so we should have other little nieces or nephews and anyway...” His throat was constricting and his breathing was getting shallow but he went on, “I want to live with you for the rest of my life and that means accepting what comes with it, the good and the less good...” He paused and took Cas' hand in his. It trembled. “I don't care if we get married or not but I want to say this. You saved me. Completely. I was in Hell and you were there and you gave me... everything. So, that's it. I won't leave, I won't change my mind, I am yours, forever. The life we have is the best one and I don't want you to think I have regrets, okay?”

 

Castiel was silent for a very long time. Then he said:

“I care.”

“I know, honeybee, but didn't you listen...?”

“No, I meant, I care about getting married. It is possible now and I would like it. We could invite our friends and your family. We could dance, now that your leg is healed. We could do a cake with my honey.”

Dean melted in the mattress. He  must have smiled, he may have cried a little.  What he was sure of was that he answered :

“Yes. To all of it. Even the dancing.”

They kissed and moved back against each other, making the barge sway a little bit more than usual.

It took quite a few days before the new room was worked on, but it was worth it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a long time to write and it was so worth it. This fic is really important to me and I hope you guys liked it too! Thanks very much to my beta 1984winstonandjulia for your ideas and support.  
> I maaaay revisit and add a time stamp one of those days.


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